


Blue Neighborhood

by irlmagicalgirl



Category: South Park
Genre: Crenny, Fluff, Kenny and Craig are neighbors, M/M, Sexy Times, Some angst, and then become besties, and then become more, and then they age up, craig wears a lot of sweaters, some child shenanigans, they start as children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmagicalgirl/pseuds/irlmagicalgirl
Summary: Leave this blue neighborhoodNever knew loving could hurt this goodAnd it drives me wild--One morning, Craig Tucker moves in next door to Kenny McCormick. And everyone knows that neighbors are best friends. Best friends keep secrets. Best friends take care of each other. Best friends love each other.





	1. Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood album and music video trilogy (Wild, Fools, Talk Me Down).  
> Rated E for future chapters.  
> See the end for additional notes.

_We’re alike you and I_  
 _Two blue hearts locked in our wrong minds_  
 _So can we make the most out of no time?_  
 _Can you hold me?_  
 _Can you make me leave my demons and my broken pieces behind?  
- _ _Wild_ , Troye Sivan

**oOo**

_Kenny McCormick: Age 11_  
  
            Kenny laid on his bed, eyes focused on the ceiling. Pieces were flaking off thanks to water damage, leaving unattractive yellow spots. For a long time, he would look at them and try to find shapes, the way one might find shapes in the clouds. If the spots made cute shapes, they were more appealing and it made him think less about the likelihood of the roof collapsing in on him during the next snowfall. His favorite was in a bunny shape.

            After having decided on the cutest shape, however, looking at them was pretty boring, and he had now taken to using his toes to fling his sock up and try to hit flaking pieces of ceiling down with it. This resulted in a shower of ceiling-flakes falling onto him like crude snowflakes, often getting stuck in his hair. On one hand, it didn’t make much sense to further destroy the ceiling that threatened to fall in on him, though if a _sock_ was strong enough to make it worse, there wasn’t much hope left (it would surely kill him one of these days). On the other hand, it created new shapes to look at and he would soon be able to abandon the sock tossing activity and go back to his preferred hobby of staring aimlessly.

            As he began a new game of tossing the sock up with the toes on his left foot and trying to catch it with the toes on his right, he heard a sound that was foreign to his side of the tracks: a car. A functional, non-backfiring, non-squealing, non-smoking car that was neither blaring bass nor stolen (probably). Kenny clambered to his knees and peered out the window. Not only was there a car – an actual minivan – but there was a U-Haul following it as well. The car’s presence was interesting, and it was obviously headed to the home that had been sold just next door, but what was even more interesting was whose car it was. He recognized it, of course. It wasn’t like there were an infinite number of cars in South Park to memorize.

            Kenny walked outside to investigate. This was even more interesting than tossing a sock around. Craig Tucker, who had been allowed to sit shotgun, hopped out of the van just as Kenny stepped out of his house, still barefoot. The cold hardly affected him and the callused balls of his feet. Little perks of being a hick. Craig’s eyes were cast down, like he knew Kenny was coming but felt like he could become invisible anyway. He knew whose house he was moving in next door to.

            “Craig _Tucker_ ,” Kenny said, drawing out his name. It was a little asshole-y to call to the kid that clearly didn’t want to be noticed, but if they were going to be neighbors, it was gunna happen sooner or later. Kenny always preferred for things to be sooner.

            “McCormick.”

            “What brings you to this side of the tracks?”

            Kenny watched Craig’s dad walk to the U-Haul that had parked after eyeing his son and who he was speaking to.

            “Well, I’m gunna live here now, obviously.”

            “No shit. I mean why?”

            It was a pretty honest question. Kenny couldn’t think of a single reason as to why anyone would ever want to live on this side of the tracks. It was generally a last resort kind of situation. The house that Craig was moving into was infinitely better than Kenny’s – it wasn’t two-story, like the better homes of South Park, but all four walls _and_ the roof were in good condition, and it was painted an attractive dark blue. It wasn’t a _bad_ house. But not one anyone would willingly live in. Kenny wondered how many squatters the Tuckers would find staked out in their new back yard. It was kind of like someone had started building a decent house before being told that junkies sometimes died on the sidewalk right there on that street. And so you were left with a halfway nice home on a street that was anything but.

            Craig cleared his throat. “Parents split.”

            “Fuck.”

            “Yeah.”

            Craig’s focus was still on the ground as he kicked dirty slush around.

            “Aren’t your feet cold?”

            Kenny lifted a foot and looked at the bottom of it, as if he couldn’t be sure without physical evidence. The blood had rushed there and the pads of his feet were bright red.

            “I dunno,” he answered. It was a bit true. He couldn’t exactly distinguish at what point feet were _truly_ cold at. His shoes and socks all had holes in them, so it wasn’t like wearing them ever made that much of a difference.

            “We were kinda fucked for money anyway,” Craig said, even though Kenny hadn’t pressed him further. It was like Kenny’s barefootedness made him uncomfortable and he needed to distract himself from it. “I guess splitting up kinda…makes that worse. I don’t really get it. Mom went to live with my grandma for a while, and Tricia’s helping her, but we’re actually supposed to stay together. Me and Tricia, I mean. So she’ll be over here eventually.”

            “Oh, yeah? Karen will be excited.”

            Craig’s face scrunched up in a way that said that he had forgotten that his little sister’s best friend was Karen McCormick.

            “Maybe we can take them to school together,” Kenny offered.

            “Maybe,” Craig said.

            “You know what this means, don’t you?” Kenny said.

            “What?”

            “We have to become best friends now. That’s how being neighbors works.”

            “Yeah, whatever, McCormick,” Craig said. “I gotta go help my dad with the boxes.”

            He turned and walked away without saying goodbye, but Kenny supposed that was alright. Being neighbors also meant that goodbyes weren’t all that necessary. He turned back to his house to tell Karen the good news.

**oOo**

_Craig Tucker: Age 11_

            Craig had hardly slept more than four hours on his first night in his new house. It was hard enough for him to sleep somewhere unfamiliar; sleepovers had always been an issue for him. And now he was living somewhere unfamiliar, and if that wasn’t difficult enough, he didn’t have his bed frame set up yet, so his mattress was on the floor along with all the other creatures of the night (a silly notion in his old home, but it was all too real in this one. He feared if he slept for more than thirty minutes at a time, a cockroach might crawl into his mouth, or a mouse across his foot).

            And then there were the noises. Poor people sure could party. Well, he supposed _he_ was kind of a poor person now, too. Not as bad as some, but he was going to have to learn not to look down on the people that lived around him. He was one of them now, like it or not. Not that that was the _only_ reason not to look down on somebody. He guessed he had a lot to learn. It didn’t matter where he had come from. The _street_ could party was more like it. And the arguing from Kenny’s house…his home was so painfully close to the McCormick’s, he was sure he could hear if Kenny _sneezed_. He wondered if it was always like that. The arguing. How in Christ’s name did _Kenny_ sleep? Maybe poor people didn’t sleep at all. Maybe he would learn a new skill. He could take lessons in sleeping habits from Stripe.

            He woke up for good at 6:30 in the morning, and at that point, he supposed he was just pleased that he didn’t have to fight with his stupid mattress anymore.

            He was not pleased at how he was awoken.

            “Jesus _Christ!_ McCormick, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

            Kenny McCormick was standing outside his window, peering in and tapping, smiling as if they were about to head to Disneyland.

            “ _Waking you up!_ ” he shouted. He didn’t seem to realize that Craig could hear everything from miles around, window or not. “ _So we can walk to school!_ ”

            Craig groaned. He had to go to school anyway and he _definitely_ wasn’t going back to sleep (maybe ever again). He lazily pointed towards his front door and left to meet Kenny there to let him in.

            “ _What_ are we doing?” Craig asked again, only one eye open. _How_ the hell was Kenny so…awake? Then again, he had lived here for longer. Maybe he just never slept. Maybe he was a god.

            “We’re walking to school.”

            “That’s what I thought you said...You realize Tricia isn’t here yet, right?”

            “Well, yeah. But _we_ still have to go to school.”

            Craig dragged his hands down his face. “Don’t you take the bus, Kenny? Do you know how fucking far school is from where we’re at?”

            Kenny rolled his eyes. “Technicalities. Okay then, fine. We’re walking to the _bus stop._ Hurry up and get ready.”

            Craig turned around to walk back to his room, and Kenny followed him in like it was the most natural thing in the world. It really shouldn’t have surprised him. Nothing in this neighborhood and nothing about Kenny and, truthfully, nothing in South Park should have surprised him anymore, but here he was. Surprised that he was surprised.

            “Go brush your teeth and stuff,” Kenny said when they got in his room. He was entirely unfazed by the fact that Craig’s mattress was the only furniture there and that boxes were all over the place _and_ that there was a genuine mouse hole in the wall near his closet. Craig had never been in Kenny’s house before and wondered how different his room was.

            “What are you gunna do?” asked Craig. Kenny seemed to be looking for something in his room – not that there was much to find.

            “I’m gunna get some clothes out for you so you can get ready faster. We kinda have to leave earlier than what you’re prob’ly used to, all the way out here. Uh, where are your clothes at?”

            Craig was about to protest, but he supposed Kenny was right, and it _would_ help them leave faster. It wasn’t like Kenny could really pick out anything for him that he didn’t like. He only owned clothes that he _did_ like, and he didn’t exactly own a ton of stuff. Besides, it wasn’t like the kid had bad taste just because he was poor.

            “Split between those two boxes by the closet over there,” Craig said and left the room to clean himself up and brush his hair and teeth.

            “ _Hey, this is cool!_ ” Craig heard Kenny yell at him. _“Why don’t you ever wear this?”_

Craig couldn’t imagine what it was that Kenny had found. Maybe he _did_ own some trash article of clothing that Kenny had managed to sniff out, but…no, he couldn’t remember packing anything like that.

            He finished brushing his teeth and walked back into his room with morbid curiosity. Kenny had laid something out on the bed and was standing by it proudly, hands on his hips.

            “Oh. I guess I _haven’t_ worn that out before.”

            It was pretty basic. Kenny had found him some plain jeans, which he wore on a regular basis, but had also picked him out a maroon sweater with a mock turtle neck.

            “It’s so soft! It feels real…expensive,” Kenny said. “If I owned shit this soft, you’d never see me in this orange piece of crap again.”

            “I think it’s…Uh…cash…mere?”

            “ _Cashmere_ ,” Kenny whispered, the word foreign to him. “So, why don’t you wear it?”

            Craig knew exactly why he didn’t wear it, but honestly, the reason was kind of stupid, and even _more_ honestly, he didn’t want to tell Kenny what it was. But the kid was here on his bed, so what was the point?

            “Well, my grandma got it for me.”

            “Oh. Do you like, hate her or something? Is she like…a killer grandma?”

            “No! No, I love my grandma.”

            “Oh…hey, is she that one that always gives you a hundred bucks on your birthday?”

            “Yeah…that’s the one.”

            “So, what’s the problem?”

            Craig sighed. “You remember that one birthday when you and your asshole friends took my money and made me join your dumbass flute band?”

            “…Yeah?”

            “And I was traumatized?”

            “…Yeah,” Kenny said again, a wave of guilt falling over his face.

            “Well, now I have this weird hang up that if I mention my grandma buying me things or giving me money, your asshole friends will do something with it.”

            “My asshole friends only? Not me _and_ my asshole friends?”

            “…Nah,” Craig said. “I guess you’re fine. I mean…you’re not gunna steal the sweater off my back and try to pawn it, are you?”

            “Fuck no, dude,” Kenny said. “It is sweet though. Hurry and put it on, we’re gunna be late now.”

            Craig had to admit that the sweater felt wonderful once it was on his body, and it actually looked pretty good, too. He felt pretty classy for an 11 year old that practically slept on the floor.

            And then they were walking to the bus stop together. It wasn’t really weird at all, even without little sisters in tow. Not that that was gunna suck, either. Craig didn’t mind that the little sisters would probably join them at some point. But it was also cool just walking with Kenny. Craig didn’t remember the last time he had ever just _been_ with Kenny. Maybe the one and only time had been during that one field trip with the buddy system. That hadn’t even been that long ago, but it wasn’t like that had really talked all that much during the trip.

            Now they talked casually, and it was totally cool. Kenny really wasn’t that bad. He was honest and real and funny, and though Craig had traditionally hated Kenny’s friend group, he had to admit that, on his own, Kenny really didn’t possess the qualities he hated. They reminisced about the flute band incident and Craig had an honest laugh over the fact that Kenny really just genuinely liked the music and didn’t give two shits about the fact that it was a fad or a way to get rich quick. It was fairly admirable, considering the fact that if anyone needed to get rich quick, it was him.

            When they sidled up to the bus stop, Kenny’s friends were already there. The three of them eyed Craig, who had never gone to that bus stop at that time in his entire life. They were clearly waiting for either him or Kenny to say something, but neither did.

            “Hey, Kenny…,” Stan said, peering curiously. Kyle’s eyebrows raised, and Cartman seemed to be genuinely confused, as if he were wondering if he had gotten his dates mixed up.

            “Hey, guys!” Kenny greeted, and that was all. He acted, Craig supposed, as he might on any other day. And that was pretty cool, too.

**oOo**

_Kenny McCormick: age 12_

            “Craig, come on, hurry up!”

            “God, I’m coming. What’s your rush anyway?” He shut his locker and tossed his backpack over is shoulder.

            Kenny looked behind him. “Because I don’t want the others to follow us, that’s why.”

            Craig shrugged, asking no questions and following Kenny out of the school before any of their friends were in sight. They had ridden their bikes that day, so really, no one could have followed them anyway, but Kenny seemed adamant nonetheless. By now, everyone knew that Craig and Kenny were neighbors; they had to know. It made too much of a difference in the games they played. There were literal maps that needed updating. Not to mention, everyone seemed to notice that Craig and Kenny became closer friends after becoming neighbors. No one really thought anything of this, since _everyone_ knew that neighbors were automatic friends. However, it seemed to throw the dynamic of everyone else’s friendships into a tizzy. Both of the friends’ groups decided it was convenient to have their friends so close to each other, and suddenly, everyone was on the wrong side of the tracks more often than they had ever been. They seemed to think that Craig and Kenny living next to each other had created a new “base.” And since Craig’s friends wanted to go to his house all the time (which had never made any sense to him, seeing how big Token’s house was – though everyone claimed it was too far out of the way), Kenny’s friends felt obligated to be at _his_ house all the time. Kenny supposed he was flattered, but overall, he felt a bit self-conscious about them being over as often as they were. It wasn’t like he had a lot of room for them, or anything to feed them for that matter.

            So, sometimes they didn’t want to be followed. Sometimes, shitty as home was for the both of them, they just wanted home to be home, _and_ to have it to themselves. Their living next door to each other didn’t actually make their friend groups any closer. But Kenny and Craig were friends on their own. It wasn’t weird. And if they wanted to bike home alone without anyone following them, no one would think twice. It was just a little different that Kenny wanted to leave before even being seen when they had taken transportation that couldn’t be followed anyway. But Kenny was Kenny. In the past year, these kinds of Kenny moments had happened more than once, and though they could be strange, they generally ended in a nice way.

            The very first Kenny moment that Craig had witnessed was his first day in his new house, when Kenny invited himself in and picked out a school outfit for him. Craig now wore cashmere sweaters so often that they had become his signature and classmates, male and female, would find excuses to hug him or brush against his arm. Kenny found himself getting jealous any time that happened, and he had decided to himself that it had to be because he took credit for Craig’s new wardrobe.

            “Where are we going?” Craig asked as they crossed the railroad tracks and passed both of their houses.

            “I’m gunna show you something really cool,” was Kenny’s response. They biked passed all the houses in their neighborhood until they were nearly to the dark woods.

            “Over here,” Kenny said and hung a left. There was a small lake there, too, like a bizarro version of Stark’s Pond. No one ever went. It was too far, and the amount of bodily fluids in it was enough to make the water toxic, more than likely. A large No Swimming sign was posted, for that exact reason. Kenny was pretty sure that fish didn’t even swim in it. But it was still pretty cool to look at. And even cooler was the tree that hung over it.

            “Woah,” Craig said. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

            “I don’t think a lot of people in town do, actually. A lot of hicks come out here to drink and light firecrackers, though. They end up puking or pissing in the water, though, so it’s kinda nasty. That sign hasn’t always been there.”

            “Is this what you wanted to show me?” Craig asked. It was cool to know the lake was there, he supposed, but it wasn’t all that useful if they couldn’t get in the water.

            “Uh, kinda,” Kenny said. “It’s actually the tree I wanted to show you. Come on. Leave your bike, it’ll be fine.”

            The boys dropped their bikes in the dirt and Craig followed Kenny to the gigantic tree.

            “This tree is the best tree in all of South Park, I swear to God. It’s probably better than all of the trees in North Park, too. It’s even better than the tree in Kyle’s yard.”

            “Really?”

            “Well, yeah. I mean, Kyle’s is cool and all. But this one is even leafier. And you can climb it _without_ building a latter. And I bet it’s taller, too.”

            “Wow.”

            “ _And_ , we’re the only one’s who know about it,” Kenny said smugly. Craig gave him a look, eyebrows furrowed.

            “R-really?”

            “Yeah. I mean, that’s why I didn’t want anyone following us.”

            “…Your friends don’t know about this place?”

            Kenny shrugged. “Nah. I need some secrets of my own. Besides, they’re happy with Kyle’s tree. I don’t wanna upset Kyle by telling him there’s a better tree that exists. Plus, then I’d have to share it with everyone.”

            “But you’re showing it to me,” Craig said. “How do you know I won’t tell everyone about it?”

            “Because I know,” Kenny said. “Neighbors mean best friends. Best friends keep secrets. Right?”

            “So we’re really best friends?”

            “Of course. I mean…don’t you wanna be?” A best friend was something Kenny had always wanted. His _own_. He had Stan and Kyle and he loved them, but they were each others’ neighbor and each others’ super best friend, and Kenny knew that as much as he loved them, and as much as they cared about him, they were always going to have their own world that he couldn’t break into. And Craig had _his_ friends, too. But, well, this was something they could have that was outside the rest of their classmates. And now that he was definitely in Kenny’s world that no one else had ever really been able to understand, it just seemed natural, despite anything else.

            “…Yeah. Yeah, I wanna be,” Craig said finally. Kenny held is pinky up and Craig hooked it with his own, forming a secret promise between the two of them.

            “Come on, follow me,” Kenny said and he began climbing the tree. “You won’t fall, I promise. This tree is so perfect. It’s like God formed it with built in stairs.”

            They climbed together until they were just about as high as they could get. Kenny wasn’t afraid of falling, nor any consequences of falling, and Craig didn’t want to let on that he _was,_ so he continued to climb silently, and the result was a miraculous view. It wasn’t the same as the view from Kyle’s tree house. There, all you could see were the boring backyards of everyone else’s houses. Here, you could see the full Trash Lake, and you could even pretend that there was nothing biohazardous about it. You could see the tops of the other trees in the dark woods, and places where only animals had walked through the snow.

            “God, it’s like you can see Canada from here,” Craig said. It was a silly thing to say, but he really felt like he could.

            “Yeah, you really can,” Kenny agreed, thinking nothing silly of it. For all Kenny knew, Canada _was_ right there. Garrison had never taught them geography. He pulled a pocket knife from his parka.

            “ _Fuck_ , what’s that for? A blood ritual?”

            Kenny laughed at him so hard he had to stabilize himself on a branch to keep from tumbling down.

            “No, dumbie. I don’t mess with that ritual shit.”

            Instead, he carved their initials in a thick section of bark. K.M. and C.T.

            “Damn, aren’t you glad we don’t have some embarrassing initials, like B.J. or something?”

            Craig narrowed his eyes. He was glad they weren’t going to be cutting their palms, but he hadn’t expected Kenny to do _that_. Craig and Kenny both stared at the letters for a long time before doing or saying anything.

            “Isn’t…that kinda gay?” Craig said finally. Kenny looked at him.

            “No? Yeah? I dunno. They’re just letters. What does it matter anyway? Aren’t _you_ a little gay?”

            Craig continued to stare at the letters, again not saying a word. Kenny waited patiently. It was something Kenny had thought about a lot, but had never thought to _ask_. It seemed like a cliché thing to ask him, since the town had talked it to death once upon a time. But this seemed like a good time.

            “Yeah, I guess so,” Craig finally said. His eyes didn’t move from the letters for a long time.

**oOo**

_Craig Tucker: age 13_

            Over time, sleeping in his new house had become easier for Craig. He got used to some noises and tuned out others. The bugs had been exterminated, and any mice left behind didn’t bother him. He got a bed frame, and as things began to feel more normal, he learned how to sleep through nights easier.

            And then it went away around his thirteenth birthday, thanks to a sudden but not _totally_ unexpected event. He could remember the first time it had ever happened. He awoke at 2 am to a noise that was familiar, but not usual for the nighttime. It didn’t fit in with the noises he had learned to live with at bed time.

            He opened his eyes and sat up, peering out his window. Sure enough, Kenny was out there in the dark and the snow, bare feet and all, prying his duct taped window open, stepping out, and heading over to Craig’s own. Craig opened his window quickly so that Kenny could duck and slip right in – the way Craig’s house was built, it was actually a bit lower than ground level, so Kenny had to lower himself into Craig’s room.

            “What’s up?” Craig asked. “It’s 2 am.” They didn’t have school the next day, but 2 am was 2 am.

            “Can I sleep here with you tonight?” Kenny asked. He was shivering slightly, even though he didn’t get cold easily. His eyes looked red, but he didn’t explain, so Craig didn’t ask.

            “Yeah, of course,” Craig said. “Come on, you’re like ice.”

            Kenny slid under the covers next to Craig wordlessly and gratefully, and drifted into sleep like it was the most normal thing in the world. Craig didn’t complain when Kenny’s frozen feet would accidentally brush against his leg, and he didn’t say a word when, in his sleep, Kenny held tight onto his arm.

            Craig’s first morning in the house was the first window-visit from Kenny, and this was the first of the night window-visits. And as Craig began to fall back asleep, cold but comfortable, he wondered why they hadn’t started earlier.

 


	2. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My youth, my youth is yours  
> Trippin' on skies, sippin' waterfalls  
> My youth, my youth is yours  
> Runaway now and forevermore  
> My youth, my youth is yours  
> A truth so loud you can't ignore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is inspired by Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood: both the music video trilogy and the album that share the title.

_My youth, my youth is yours_ _  
Trippin' on skies, sippin' waterfalls  
My youth, my youth is yours  
Runaway now and forevermore  
My youth, my youth is yours  
A truth so loud you can't ignore_  
\- _Youth_ , Troye Sivan

**oOo**

_Craig Tucker: age 13_

           

            Visits to Craig and Kenny’s tree hadn’t gotten old. For nearly a year they had been climbing it, and in that year, it remained their secret, just as it was meant to remain. Over the months, their initials carved high in the branches became accompanied by other treasures and notes and symbols. A map had been crudely marked out, based on memory and what they could see at their heights. On one branch, Craig had carved out _I hate Cartman_. Though this needed no qualification, and Kenny would have accepted this at any time, it had been added following a day where Eric had been particularly nasty about their living conditions. One another branch, Kenny had carved out _I hate Stuart_.

            Very rarely did Kenny talk to Craig about his parents. In fact, Craig felt that Kenny used him as a distraction _from_ his parents. Which was fine, he supposed, but he wished Kenny knew that it was alright to talk sometimes, too. Craig just wasn’t sure how to tell him.

            Though less frequent than their tree visits, their spontaneous sleepovers had continued as well. Naturally, they had regular, planned sleepovers every now and then, as well. Those included other boys, and everyone was confined to their own, personal sleeping bags. But unannounced, about two or three times a month, Kenny would tap on Craig’s window, Craig would let him in, and Kenny would slip into bed right next to him and fall asleep. And they never spoke about why it happened, neither at night, nor the next morning. In fact, every morning after proceeded just the same, if not more cheerful, as any other morning. As far as anyone was concerned, it didn’t happen at all. Even during the day and regular life, neither Craig nor Kenny brought up the fact that they shared a bed on occasion. The actual act of sharing a bed wasn’t weird to them. But it wasn’t especially normal, either, simply because at all other hours of the day, it went completely unacknowledged.

            Craig was sure that Kenny _wanted_ to forget it had to happen. Craig supposed that if _he_ needed to ask Kenny for a spot in _his_ bed, he wouldn’t want to think about it, either. Not because he didn’t want to think about the act of having to share a bed. The fact that they were friends ( _best_ friends, now), _and_ both male was a non-issue in either case. It was the fact that he was scared or bothered enough by something that he _had_ to seek comfort. Maybe it wouldn’t matter _whose_ bed it was, and Craig’s was just the closest. That was possible. But Craig supposed Kenny had too much pride to discuss the fact that their spontaneous sleepovers were caused by the fact that something upset and scared Kenny so much that he had to ask of Craig what was potentially humiliating and the peak of weakness and vulnerability for him. And whatever it was that made Kenny cry in his sleep on those nights, and absent-mindedly clutch onto Craig’s shirt, he clearly did not want to talk about.

            But if Kenny’s tree carving was any hint, Craig was willing to bet that, whatever it was, it had a great deal to do with Stuart McCormick.

 

_Kenny McCormick: age 13_

 

            Although Craig and Kenny came to the tree frequently on their own, _this_ particular occasion came about thanks to a bonfire party. In theory, bonfire parties were pretty cool, Kenny thought, but the way they were practiced were stupid. Kenny liked to imagine them as a potential staple of his future teen years, late at night, by a _cool_ body of water (or at least a non-toxic one), with friends his own age and scary stories, and maybe first kisses, and probably underage drinking. That was the kind of bonfire party he saw on television, and unfortunately, an extremely unrealistic expectation. What he and Craig were faced with was the Shitty Lake, drunken adult rednecks, farfetched and incoherent stories, no alcohol for his thirteen year old self, and Craig as his only company. Not that Craig was bad company by any means, but Kenny felt bad that the kid had to be as miserable as himself.

            “You didn’t tell me _our_ parents were the kind of people who lit firecrackers and pissed in the lake,” Craig said as the boys stared at the tops of balding heads and receding hairlines from the high branches of their tree.

            “Yeah, well,” Kenny said, “I didn’t wanna freak you out or anything.”

            “Why would it freak me out?”

            “I didn’t want you to have to think about the fact that your dad was going to end up being one of them.”

            Down below, Stuart was handing Thomas Tucker a can of cheap beer. They sat around the lackluster daytime bonfire in dilapidated lawn chairs with the rest of the white trash, redneck, meth-headed men of Beyond the Tracks.

            “Don’t worry,” Kenny whispered, as if he were trying to convince himself as well. “Stuart won’t give your dad meth or anything like that. Just…nasty PBR. That’s enough of a crime, I guess.”

            “Is it really that bad?”

            “It tastes like piss.”

            “You’ve tried it?”

            “No, but…it’s PBR. Common knowledge.”

            “Do you always call your dad by his first name?” Craig asked after a few beats.

            “I do, and I will until he deserves to be called something else.”

            And that’s all that was said on that.

            There was no telling how long the men were going to be bon-firing, but there was nothing better to do that Saturday, and the boys had both been told that they had to stay. Enjoy the great outdoors and fresh air. For their health. As if they weren’t outside _all the time_ , and as if the men below were the pinnacle of health. Half of them had drugged the teeth right out of their mouths. So the boys stayed in the tree for over an hour – _two_ hours, even. They played games of chicken, seeing how far they could inch to the edge of a branch without fear of falling. Kenny won easily, using his complete lack of fear of falling off of _anything_ as an advantage. Kenny wasn’t afraid of death, but he was afraid of something at night, and possibly afraid of talking about it as well, and that was how things were. But Craig’s fears were the opposite, and even though that’s just the way things _were_ didn’t necessarily mean that they were okay.

            Kenny scratched more marks in the branches, and Craig watched him, wondering and waiting for something new to happen. They played a game of tic-tac-toe on another branch, but after a tie, decided it was too much effort with only one knife anyway.

            “Hey, what’s going on down there?” Craig said, peering down below.

            “Same thing as before. They’re acting like drunk idiots.” Kenny was entirely jaded by the redneck revelry.

            “No, something’s really going on,” Craig said. “Look.”

            Kenny gave in, since Craig was his only means of entertainment anyway, and looked down at the ground. It seemed like there was an argument starting up. “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. That happens sometimes. There’s always bound to be _some_ argument when you get a bunch of high and wasted men together. Watch, in five minutes or so, they’ll be right back to laughing.”

            But this was not the case. For the first time, Kenny had made an incorrect prediction regarding the behavior of Stuart McCormick and Co. It was understandable; this was the first camping trip that included their new neighbor, Mr. Tucker.

            “Oh, fuck,” Kenny muttered, not exactly meaning for Craig to hear. Stuart was standing ( _of course he is,_ Kenny thought. _He’s always involved_ ), but so was Thomas Tucker. Both were clearly three sheets to the wind. Kenny hadn’t been entirely sure how Thomas was going to adjust to living conditions on the East side of the train tracks, but it looked like he fit in just fine. Or not, since he was now engaged in a shoving match with Stuart.

            “That’s not normal, is it?” Craig asked. Kenny could hear fear in his voice.

            “Shoving? Not really. Not during a bonfire party, at least.”

            “Did my dad fuck up?”

            “No,” Kenny said, “I can eleven out of ten guarantee that Stuart started it. Doesn’t make it much better though, does it?”

            Craig just shook his head and the boys remained in the tree. There wasn’t much more for them to do. If they came down, they could too easily get caught in the middle. If they came down, they had to face the fact that this was their reality. So they stayed in their tree until shoves became punches and grunts became audible accusations.

            “W-what are they saying?” Craig asked, obviously scared now.

            “Dunno,” Kenny replied, less so but still shaky. Not only was this a rare occurrence, but it was his dad and his best friend’s dad in the mix, and something was definitely the matter.

            “- _nothing_ wrong with how – raise _my_ son!” the boys heard Thomas say. They looked timidly at each other before turning their heads back towards the action. “At least I _raise mine!_ ” Thomas continued.

            “Maybe s’why he’s _fucked_ up,” Stuart slurred. “ _Filthy_ influence. That why Laura left you? Huh?”

            Thomas turned beet red in the face and rushed, bent over, towards Stuart, like a bull ready to headbutt. Stuart was drunk and swayed on his feet, but still managed to side step him.

            “Sorry,” Kenny whispered again.

            “S’okay,” Craig replied, his eyes unwavering from what was occurring down below. The thing was, neither of the boys could discern what the argument was really about. It was already clear to both of them that Stuart didn’t have much hand in Kenny’s upbringing, but they were unsure what it was about Craig that was so “fucked up” due to Thomas’s “filthy influence.” They couldn’t venture a guess as to what was filthy, nor what the influence was, but Stuart really seemed to be worked up about it.

            Stuart stood back upright to the best of his ability and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

            “Tell ya what,” he slurred, panting. “Raise your boy whatever filthy way you choose. But he ain’t gunna be influencin’ mine. _Kenneth!_ ”

            Kenny’s heart jumped into his throat as he looked at Craig again. The wideness of Craig’s eyes reiterated the urgency of the situation.      

            “I don’t wanna go,” Kenny said.

            “Then don’t,” Craig replied. The bigger boy’s hand hovered over Kenny’s, like he was ready to grab onto it and not let go, but he didn’t. His hand continued hovering in the air like the tension and anticipation and anxiety and fear and silence in the moment.

            It would have been nice to just stay there. It’s what Kenny would have chosen to do first. But they were in a tree and there was no where to go but down, and a crowd of men was looking up at them. There was no telling what Stuart’s drunk ass would try to do if they stayed up there. He had brought his shotgun, after all.

            “ _Kenny!_ Get your _ass_ out of that tree!”

            “I think I have to,” Kenny whispered. It was more like he was coming to terms with it himself than anything. “I’ll…see you.”

            “Good luck,” Craig whispered back. There was no way in hell _he_ was coming down from that tree. He thought for a moment about following Kenny down, for backup, but ultimately decided that would have made everything worse. After all, Kenny was probably in trouble, and it was probably for something he had done, and he didn’t even know what that thing was.

            The crowd of drunk men below, and Thomas Tucker, and Craig himself, watched Kenny and Stuart walking back towards home, a bag of supplies on Kenny’s back and a shotgun on Stuart’s. Kenny turned his head back slowly to see Craig peeking through the highest branches, and gave him a look of sympathy, just long enough for Stuart to notice and smack the back of his head.

 

_Craig Tucker_ : _age 13_

            Although Kenny had been coming to Craig’s bedroom window about two or three times of month, Craig had not been able to accurately predict which nights it was that Kenny would show up. He just knew to be ready and welcoming when Kenny did show up.

            The night after the bonfire incident, however, Craig knew to expect Kenny. There was no way he wouldn’t come. No one wanted to stay the night by the lake after Stuart and Thomas’s fight, except for those that had been too high to notice it happening, and Thomas got Craig to come out of the tree and come back home with him as soon as Stuart and Kenny had gone out of sight.

            This could be the night that Kenny opened up about his previous visits. Or it could be another night of silent sleep. Now, it didn’t matter to Craig. This was just the first time that he _knew_ for _sure_ that he would have company through the night.

            So he stayed up through to two am. It was the first time he could remember willingly doing so – sleep was something that he valued above nearly all else. But Kenny was one of the few things that trumped the value of sleep, and Craig wasn’t going to pass up the chance to surprise his friend by being awake and ready when he came to call.

            Sure enough, at about 2:15 am, Craig heard Kenny clambering out of his room and heading over. Craig opened his window to have it ready, which was another first. Usually, it was Kenny’s taps that prompted Craig to wake up at all.

            “You knew I was coming,” Kenny said, slipping down into the room. His eyes weren’t red this time, but they did seem tired and drained. In fact, his entire demeanor gave off the feeling of lifelessness.

            “Of course I knew,” Craig said.

            “How?”

            Craig raised his eyebrows at Kenny. A better question would have been _how could he not?_

            “Fair point,” Kenny said.

            Generally, at this point, Kenny would be slipping into bed next to Craig and falling asleep without a word. Things were different this time, however. Perhaps it had been because Craig was awake and expectant. Or maybe it was because things _were_ different this time.

            “Are you…okay?” Craig asked. It was the first time he had ever really _pried_ , and it was kind of a stupid question to start with, let alone ask at all, but he wasn’t really sure where else he was supposed to start. When it got down to it, he was just thirteen, as was Kenny, and he had never really had a best friend before – not like this, that shared a tree most days, and a bed on some others – and he had never had his father fight with his best friend’s father, and he somehow felt like it was all his fault, despite still not knowing what he had done. In the end, he really, honestly _did_ want to know if Kenny was okay.

            “I mean, I guess,” Kenny shrugged. “Kinda pissed, y’know, but honestly, Stuart can’t do jack shit to me.”

            Craig looked at him, searching for more. It was hard to tell if Kenny’s answer referred to just that night, or his wellbeing in general, or every night he had come tapping on the window.

            “It is pretty much always family shit that makes me come over here,” Kenny continued, as if reading the questions in Craig’s mind. “But usually it’s just got to do with…y’know, _my_ family. I fight with Stuart, or I get in between him and mom, or Karen gets dragged into it…just. Whatever. Stuart’s an asshole – you know that. Even our damn _tree_ knows that, and sometimes I just need a fucking _break_ because I can’t stand to breathe air within the same four walls as him.”

            Craig stared, wordlessly, continuing to search Kenny’s face. He was finally opening up, after months of no explanations, and yet, after so much waiting and speculating, he didn’t know what to say.

            “Tonight was just…different, though,” Kenny said. Of course it was. Kenny’s expression alone gave that away, but even from the moment Craig knew to expect Kenny, he knew it was going to be different. He knew from the moment they heard Stuart and Thomas yelling at each other that this night would be different.

            “Because I was involved,” Craig said. Kenny looked at him. It seemed like he didn’t want to answer right away.

            “Yeah,” he said finally. “Kinda.”

“Your dad doesn’t want you hanging around me anymore,” Craig said. It wasn’t a question. He knew that’s what the problem was. He just didn’t know why.

            “Basically,” Kenny said. “I mean, you heard the gist of it this afternoon. He reckons your dad did a fucked up job raising you, and thinks you’ll be a bad influence on me. Which is bullshit. My dad doesn’t do shit to raise me. Good or bad, raising your kid is probably better than hardly being involved at all. He doesn’t give a shit about me until something he doesn’t like comes along, and then he figures he can suddenly step in and make these decisions about my upbringing and who I hang out with.”

            Kenny didn’t look at Craig during the rant. His eyes stayed focused on his hands. He was leaving something out.

            “Well, that makes sense,” Craig said. “But…well, my parents may be divorced, and my dad may be poor, but…I don’t think he fucked _too_ bad. I’ve never had any other parents, so…I dunno. But I think he did alright. Why does your dad think he messed up? I mean what bad influence does he think I’m gunna have on you after having already lived next to you for two years? No offense, but I think my dad was the only one down there this afternoon who hasn’t been on drugs. He’s never been arrested. I…well, where is it that your dad draws his moral line in the sand?”

            It was an honest question. Stuart was an alcoholic, and the most lucrative job he had ever had was running a subpar meth lab. He was never around, and all the neighbors Kenny had been exposed to his whole life were just as bad or worse. Craig couldn’t honestly imagine what he or his dad had done to be a more negative influence on Kenny than the influences he had already been exposed to. It sounded like this was the first time Kenny had ever been disallowed to hang out with anyone, and it didn’t make any logical sense to him.

            Kenny sighed deeply, the deepest sigh Craig had ever heard from him.

            “He thinks you’re too gay. And that your dad is promoting it.”

            Craig swallowed hard. Not the expected answer, but not entirely untrue either. They both knew that. When Kenny had carved their names in the tree, Craig _had_ said he was a little gay. If he had learned _anything_ from his fake relationship with Tweek, it was that. The relationship _had_ been totally fake. But after it was all said and done, he realized the sexual orientation really… _wasn’t_. He learned this when noticed how normal it felt to tell the town that he wasn’t in love with Tweek, but the more he tried denying that he was gay, the more the words stuck in his throat. He had only been ten and hadn’t really thought about sexuality until the entire town forced it upon him, but the town hadn’t been wrong about it – they had just been wrong about who they had stuck him with. It just remained something he didn’t discuss much.

            And it wasn’t that Thomas _promoted_ it. He actually didn’t talk to Craig much about it at all anymore. It was just a fact from once-upon-a-time that never stopped being a fact. Craig was actually pretty sure that his dad still had art of himself and Tweek tucked away; not because he still wanted his son to be with Tweek, but perhaps to have proof that, were it to come up again, he _did_ support any relationship choices Craig were to make in the future.           

            “But…what made your dad so…aware of it suddenly?” Craig asked. “It’s not like I’m super flamboyant about it. Oh, don’t even look at me like that, you know I’m not going to deny being gay on any spectrum. We both know I am.”

            Kenny shrugged. “I dunno, dude. I think probably someone just said some trigger word and it made him remember the whole thing with you and Tweek, and I guess he was cool with that as long as you were with _Tweek_ , or literally anyone other than his kid.”

            “I see. Well, that’s –,”

            “Shitty, I know, but Stuart is shitty, what can I say? I guess now that we’re at this point, I gotta say I’m a little surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Honestly, if his brains weren’t so fuckin’ fried, it probably would have. The weirdest shit triggers his memory at the weirdest times.”

            Craig stared at Kenny. He was upset, clearly, but more about his father’s general stupidity, it seemed.

            “Aren’t you…worried?” Craig asked.

            “About what?”

            “Well…I mean, about what your dad’s gunna do.”

            “He ain’t gunna do shit,” Kenny said. “Trust me. Not any more than he does any other day. I mean, maybe we just won’t let him see us together as much, but when is he ever around to see us anyway? And then, when is he _sober?_ Honestly, if he was that concerned about his kid being gay, he’d actually pay attention to _his kid_ , and not someone else’s.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Kenny ran a hand down his face. “I _mean_ , he’s worried that you’re gunna be a bad influence on me, when I’ve been spending my whole life influencing my own damn self.”

            Craig continued to stare, lost more than anything. “Are… _you_ gay?”

            Kenny looked at Craig as if hoping he’d have come to the conclusion without words, but he ultimately accepted defeat.

            “Well, probably gay enough that Stuart should have been worried a long time ago. I mean. I like girls.”

            Craig raised an eyebrow.

            “But…I like guys, too,” Kenny said. “And, I mean, I like _you._ ”

            “ _Oh,_ ” Craig said, and let the syllable float in the air before realizing he should probably add on. “I…I like you, too.”

            Over the past year, it had probably become obvious. They shared a tree with their initials carved into it. They shared a bed on several occasions. They shared secrets, and the confrontation between their fathers that no one else knew about felt like something they shared now, too. And yet, Craig realized, as an intense warmth fell over him, that he had needed Kenny to say it explicitly for it to be true. They were perhaps more than best friends. They were best _somethings_. What that word _was_ was unsure. But it was theirs.

            “You really aren’t worried, then?” Craig asked.

            “Nah,” Kenny said with a small smile, and Craig really worried that the smile was just something Kenny was using to pacify him.

            “He’s got a gun,” Craig said.

            “Everyone’s got a gun,” Kenny replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Craig didn’t think this was quite the time to point out that this was not true. Despite the fact that they now both lived on the East side of the tracks, Craig was often faced with the reality that he had been thrown into the environment whereas Kenny had grown up in it. Despite the fact that they now shared so much, Craig knew that Kenny held some truths about the world that were his alone.

            “He might have a reason to use it now,” Craig whispered, ignoring the truths that he knew.

            “Well, like I said, we won’t let him see us.”

            Craig wasn’t sure he was convinced. He wasn’t around Stuart enough to know or trust his personality. But at the same time, he _did_ trust Kenny, and no one was around Stuart more than him, probably. In the end, it really just came down to how much Kenny was trying to placate him, and how much he was honestly not worried.

            He fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, sure that Kenny was watching him. A new question formed in his mind: Did Kenny come to his window that night because he _was_ scared and worried and upset? Or because he just wanted to share a bed and truly didn’t care about being caught doing so?

            Kenny took off his shirt and fell back onto the bed next to him.

            “You okay?” It was Kenny’s turn to ask. His voice was so soft, it was on the verge of disappearing completely. It had already changed and gotten deeper; though Kenny wasn’t getting as big as some of the other boys in their class, undoubtedly due to lack of nutrition, it seemed like his voice was the first to get deeper. The fact that Craig found it to be the most warm and velvety sound he knew of was a secret he kept to himself alone.

            “Yeah, I am,” Craig said, and forgetting what had happened that afternoon, he really was.

            Kenny slipped under the covers, sweats on and shirt off. Craig shimmied his pants off and slipped under as well. Without planning, they had always slept clothed the opposite like this: Craig with a t-shirt on and no pants, and Kenny with bottoms on and no shirt. They had never pointed it out before, but as they made themselves comfortable, Craig thought about how perfect it was. Sounded a little too silly for his adolescent self to mention out loud, but he thought there was something beautiful and poetic about their bedtime clothing arrangement. It was a little yin and yang. Yeah, that was definitely too stupid to say out loud.

            Once they were tucked into bed and the lights were out, it felt the same as it had every other time, but…warmer. Definitely warmer. They knew more about each other and they shared more with each other, and Kenny wasn’t crying. In that moment of warmth, at thirteen years old, laying next to his best friend that he liked, that liked him back, Craig took a deep breath.

            “Hey, Kenny?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I’m not afraid.”

            There was a pause. Not a _bad_ pause. More like a pause that came when someone heard what they had not expected. And then:

            “Me neither.”

            Briefly, Kenny’s hand slipped into Craig’s, gave it a comforting squeeze, and then slid back away, just as quickly as the boys both slid into the darkness of sleep after harrowing day.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: irlmagicalgirl
> 
> So this was gunna be just 3 chapters because it was just going to be inspired by the music video trilogy, but it kind of took a life of its own, and I've expanded it to 4 chapters. It'll probably stay at 4, but at the very most, it'll be 5. I think just 4 though.
> 
> Goodness, I hope you guys are receiving this well. I keep changing my mind on what I wanna do with it. I'm a little self-conscious. But idk, I think it's goin okay. Lemme know :)


	3. Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss me on the mouth and set me free  
> Sing me like a choir  
> I can be the subject of your dreams  
> Your sickening desire  
> Don't you wanna see a man up close  
> A phoenix in the fire  
> …  
> You can coax the cold right out of me  
> Drape me in your warmth  
> The rapture in the dark puts me at ease  
> The blind eye of the storm  
> Let's go for a walk down Easy Street  
> Where you can be reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS IS IMPORTANT:  
> So this fic, as I mentioned before is inspired both by Troye Sivan's album, Blue Neighborhood, and the trilogy of music videos for Wild, Fools, and Talk Me Down, which is also called Blue Neighborhood. Since this is only gunna be 4 chaps (and honestly, chap 4 is more like an epilogue than anything), I've had to creatively decide where and how to fit in all the music I want. Therefore, this chapter is called Fools, after the 2nd music video in the trilogy, but the lyrics are from the song BITE, because those lyrics...just fit better.   
> H O W E V E R, the music video for Fools is FLAWLESS for this chapter. Seriously, watch it, because it's like a mini-movie of this chapter. I mean the whole MV trilogy is, but definitely this one. Watch the video for Fools after you read this. Trust me. I'll link it at the end.
> 
> ** Warnings: abuse, mentions of hard drugs **

_Kiss me on the mouth and set me free_   
_Sing me like a choir_   
_I can be the subject of your dreams_   
_Your sickening desire_   
_Don't you wanna see a man up close_   
_A phoenix in the fire_

_…_

_You can coax the cold right out of me_   
_Drape me in your warmth_   
_The rapture in the dark puts me at ease_   
_The blind eye of the storm_   
_Let's go for a walk down Easy Street_   
_Where you can be reborn_

  
\- _Bite_ , Troye Sivan

**oOo**

_Craig Tucker: age 14_

 

            Craig had thought that a mutual confession of _liking_ would have changed things, for better or worse. They didn’t. Not much, anyway. Kenny still came through his window, though perhaps a little more often, and perhaps he was also a little more open, but over all, not much had changed in the way of their relationship. It was a little strange Craig thought, but then, he was fourteen. For all he knew, this was a relationship. His only prior experience had been fake and had ended before he even had time to decide how he really felt about it, and that was aside from the fact that he had been ten.

            They had told each other that night that they weren’t afraid, and Craig maintained that he wasn’t – but feared that Kenny was. He _had_ to be, of _something_. Though he wasn’t afraid to talk to Craig anymore about his family situation, he was afraid enough to keep trying to avoid them. He was afraid enough that he didn’t want Stuart to know they were talking. Kenny said that Stuart couldn’t do anything, but they had to avoid him nonetheless. Craig wasn’t angry that Kenny had lied about not being afraid. He just wished Kenny would give him an idea of how that fear could be taken away.

            Craig supposed it helped to hear about Kenny’s home life. It was worse than he had realized – worse than what he could hear at night through the window. Stuart was the scum of humanity. He complained about everyone taking his jobs, but made no effort to look for a real job at all. Not that it would have been possible for him to get one. Kenny could vouch for the fact that there wasn’t one time in the past five years that Stuart would have been able to pass a drug test.

            “That…is unbelievable,” Craig had said. It was, though. It really was. He wondered how much younger, more _handsome_ , Stuart might have seemed without rejection. If he would have looked anything like Kenny, well, he had really destroyed something beautiful.

            “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Kenny said. “But I witnessed it all. It’s a miracle none of us were born addicted to drugs. I guess Ma isn’t as bad…but fuck, it could have been worse, huh?”

            “How -,” Craig started, wondering how to word his next question, if it should be asked at all. “How does he afford it? I mean…aren’t drugs _expensive_?”

            “Well, yeah. That’s why we can’t afford food or anything else. A big part of the reason, at least. I mean, I’m sure he’s done some other God awful shit and favors in exchange for them along the road…I don’t wanna think about it.”

            “Don’t they have like…CPS for this kind of thing?”

            “Oh, yeah, they’ve been around. Been there, done that. To be honest, the office is kind of a shit show, and our case worker kinda just…stopped showing up. Died, maybe. Wouldn’t be surprised if it caught a disease in my living room.”

            That had been the end of that conversation, but over time, Kenny revealed more and more.

            His mother, Carol, (whom Craig slowly realized he never saw) had…issues. To say the least. It was no wonder. Kenny was the first to admit that she was at fault in many ways. She had been the one to enable Stuart in the first place, and dope up right alongside him, and then, somewhere along the line, Carol wanted to quit – the hard stuff at least – for the sake of her babies. And Stuart didn’t want to quit. Then, it became this huge, manipulative, abusive thing, and honestly, Carol didn’t even realize anything had changed. For someone so fucked up, Stuart had turned out to be a clever, wily bastard in that way. So, Kenny had explained, he’d do anything for Carol. Get her money, get her out, get her therapy, _anything_ , but he never suggested that she wasn’t at fault, too. A great deal of the family’s problems fell on her. In fact, Kenny recalled that both the Cult of Cthulu (“More information on _that_ , please,” Craig had said, extremely interested, but Kenny said it was a long, shitty story for a different time) and the meth lab out back were her ideas. The biggest difference was that Carol now showed real proof of wanting to make things right and change. Carol was a victim now, rather than Stuart’s partner. Craig thought he had noticed Kenny’s voice crack when he said that usually, Carol just locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn’t come out. He often went days at a time without seeing her.

            “I’m just worried about Karen,” Kenny had said. In fact, he said that exact sentence often. Some days, she walked with them to the bus stop, if Tricia was there, too, and some days, they walked together earlier or later. Kenny always gave the extreme impression that he wasn’t only a protective brother – he was standing in as both of Karen’s parents as well. Despite having a sister the same age, it wasn’t something Craig thought he’d ever be able to comprehend. His parents were divorced, sure, but they both doted on him and Tricia. In fact, the divorce may have even strengthened those feelings.

            Craig also learned that it really fucked Kenny up when Karen locked herself in her room. And sometimes, it was because Kenny had to tell her to do so. Sometimes, it just wasn’t safe for her to be out of her room, and the fact that his sister had to feel that way in her own home made Kenny vomit. Literally. And since there was no lock on Kenny’s door at all, those were some of the days he came to Craig’s. He also came following fights between his parents (which usually played out as Kenny stepping in between Stuart and Carol and letting Stuart hit him instead). He came when the hard drugs were coming out, and when strangers were passed out in his living room.

            When the night visits had first started, Craig had mistakenly assumed that one thing was triggering them and upsetting Kenny. He absolutely could not have been more wrong. The reasons were endless, and each and every one seemed to be worse than the last, and worse than Craig had been imagining. Despite living to the East of the tracks, Craig always thought that the conditions were something you could live in and witness from afar, but never actually be a part of. Those kinds of lives didn’t happen to real people, but…they did. He felt an overwhelming and crushing sense of guilt that he didn’t understand reality until he was fourteen years old, and only because his best friend and the boy he liked more than any others was the realest living representation he knew of that reality.

            It kind of sucked that all Craig could do was be Kenny’s friend and be there for him when he could, even if it had to be at two in the morning. They had to avoid Stuart (not that he was around all that often), and Craig felt like they had to avoid feelings deeper than friendship altogether. He wasn’t sure if letting them out would help or harm whatever situation it was that they were in. They had said they liked each other, but as the year passed and nothing changed too drastically other than how many personal details Kenny was willing to share about his life, Craig wondered if they had different definitions of the word like. They were speaking about sexuality and Stuart’s concern over their relationship with one another, sure, but maybe Kenny had just been trying to make him feel better.

            And then, there came a time where something rather unfortunate happened. Craig’s parents had gone to a meeting of some kind, and decided that, for a while, Craig and Tricia would stay with their mother during the week, and only stay with Thomas on the weekends. This meant, of course, that Kenny’s visits had to be restricted to Saturdays and Sundays, and while that might have been fine just a year earlier, it now made a major impact. Kenny’s visits had become upward of four times a week, and now that Craig was only his neighbor for two days a week, it was like Kenny had to schedule what days shitty things were allowed to happen.        

            Craig immediately felt guilty, though of course, none of it was any fault of his own. He hadn’t even been consulted before the new living situation had been introduced to him. Of course, they still saw each other at school, and if you only looked at the day time, they basically hung out the same amount of time as before. It was the nights, Craig knew, that would be different.

            So, that first Saturday night after Craig had been away from the bed near Kenny’s window for a week, Kenny came over earlier than usual, at ten pm, and just cried. Harder than Craig had ever seen. And Craig knew that it was best to just not ask, not that Kenny would have been able to get any words out anyway. It was too obvious that these were a week’s worth of emotions being released now, and that the story of each sob would be revealed in time. If anything, it surely all came out at once now because it had been bottled up all week. Kenny had gotten used to having these nights as an outlet, especially now that he was talking during them, and now, when things were at their worst, they were being cut down.

            They sat on the edge of Craig’s bed, and since Kenny hadn’t closed the window behind him, the cold air blew in and stung their necks. Though both aware of it, neither of them made an effort to close the window. There was something too heavy happening to be interrupted. Kenny was crying hard enough to be doubled over, holding his stomach, and Craig could hear how much snot he was sniffing up. Craig worried more than once that Kenny might start hyperventilating really badly, or maybe stop breathing completely. All shame and pride might as well have slipped out the open window as Kenny slipped in. Craig held a comforting arm around his shoulders, but he was shaking so bad, the gesture ended up being more awkward than anything. He had never seen a panic attack before, he didn’t think, and wondered if were witnessing one then. It had to be pretty damn close.

            It seemed like Kenny cried for hours, and neither of them said a word. That was all Kenny seemed to need at the moment; just time to cry without judgment or fear, and someone to be there when it was all over. So that’s what Craig did. In reality, Kenny’s tears probably only came for half an hour, but they came hard, and when he was done crying, not possibly having any more tears left in them, he was out of breath and visibly exhausted. It took him a while to breathe at a normal pace again, without his chest heaving. Craig could see, just from the moonlight, that Kenny’s lips and eyelids were a bit shiny and swollen, and he hoped it was only from the crying. He cursed himself for thinking that Kenny-After-Crying was kind of beautiful, his eyelashes looking thicker and longer from being wet.

            That one night, that first Saturday of Craig’s new schedule, Kenny said nothing at all. It was almost as if they had reverted back to their original night visits, except that Kenny’s crying actually made it more intimate than any of them had ever been before. After his shaking sobs, Kenny was too worn out to do anything else other than sleep, and the poor fourteen year old dressed down, with Craig helping him undo his shoe laces, and got under the covers. Craig did say good night, once he was under the covers as well, though he knew it would be a while before he fell asleep himself. It wasn’t even eleven o’ clock. Any other night, he’d still be waiting a few more hours for Kenny to arrive at all. Once Craig was tucked in, though, Kenny’s tired fingers found his and laced them together. And this time, he didn’t pull them away. Kenny’s heavy breaths of sleep came quickly, and Craig was glad, for once, that it took him so long to get to sleep. He had a full forty minutes or so to appreciate Kenny’s smaller hand in his, from the calluses near his fingers, to the softer skin on his palm, and when he noticed that the back of his hands were wet from wiping away tears, he rubbed his thumb back and forth until they were all dry.

**oOo**

_Kenny McCormick: age 15_

            Kenny couldn’t lie – it sucked not having Craig around all week. And it only got worse. It had been nearly a year, and Kenny hadn’t gotten used to it. There had been that first Saturday that Craig returned after living with his mom for the week, and Kenny had lost it. He had prepared a whole speech before heading over to Craig’s that night about how he wasn’t going to have an emotional meltdown, only to have the meltdown of the century the minute he ducked in through the window.

            That had been the beginning of the end.

            Of course, one could argue that the beginning of the end was when Craig moved in next door, or when they both said they had liked each other (which was like something that had happened in another reality), but the true beginning of the end in Kenny’s mind was the night that he broke down sobbing in Craig’s bed. There just wasn’t any way to come back from that. Craig had just about seen the worst.

            There had been a lot of reasons for Kenny breaking down that night. He had built up a lot of stress between Monday and Friday, with his mother locking herself in her room for three straight days, to Stuart and Kevin nearly killing each other (they threatened it often, but this time, it seemed like it really might happen), to Kenny giving up on being hungry and just eating the remains of a bag of McDonalds sitting on top of a trash can on his lonely Thursday trek home. It had been a rough week, but Kenny hadn’t realized how much easier Craig made day to day life until he was no longer there. And that, perhaps, was the true reason Kenny had lost it in front of Craig that night. The rest he had been conditioned to handle on his own, so even though he now had an outlet to discuss it all, it really wouldn’t have killed him to keep it in. But he had gotten used to Craig being there and listening to it all, and even though they could see each other briefly in school, it wasn’t the same. It had been only been six days, but it was long and miserable enough to wonder if the night time visits had ever been real at all. Could hunger cause those kinds of hallucinations? His crying was in great part relief from seeing that he hadn’t hallucinated, and realization that he was going to have to go through the same kind of week over and over again.

            The point was, he had developed extreme feelings for Craig – longing, necessity, desire, adoration, graciousness – and they had all revealed themselves that Saturday night. That was why Kenny had considered the night to be the beginning of the end. He wondered more than once how many of those feelings Craig had detected that night, and how many he felt himself. He honestly didn’t say all that much himself, and when he did speak, he was fairly honest. But he hadn’t said anything beyond _I like you_ , either. All Kenny knew was that his own personal feelings went beyond that, and Craig’s surely had to be somewhere similar. They had held hands that night. It had to be something.

            The longer Craig spent weekdays with his mom, the more difficult it was for Kenny to cope. And his friends noticed.

            “Hey,” Stan said to him one Friday at the bus stop. That was another thing Kenny was forced to do without Craig. “You okay?”

            “Yeah, why?” Kenny replied, but he wasn’t that okay. Things at home were only marginally worse, but he wasn’t getting much sleep at all, and he was waking up later, and he was crying more, and eating less. But as far as Stan was concerned, he was fine.

            “You just haven’t hung out much recently. We miss you. Craig lives with his mom now…right?” Stan asked. It was like he was walking on eggshells. Kenny knew that Craig still wasn’t Stan’s favorite person, for reasons he didn’t know or care about, but Stan knew that he was one of Kenny’s favorites. He didn’t want to deny Kenny his friend, or make him feel bad, that he and Kyle really did miss Kenny.

            “Only on weekdays,” Kenny said.

            “Oh. Well, we were just wondering if you wanted to go camping with us this weekend?”

            Kenny sniffed. He noticed his immune system was being kind of shitty, too. He missed Stan and Kyle, truly, but they still had school and their bus rides. They hung out a few week days, but Kenny supposed he did participate less than he once did. But he couldn’t give up his weekends. Not anymore. They were too sacred now. Even for good, old friends. They would understand. Stan and Kyle were neighbors. They were super best friends. He would never split them up if they needed each other. They would understand.

            “I can’t,” Kenny said. “I miss you guys, too, and I swear we’ll hang out together soon, but…not this weekend.”

            Swearing or not, Kenny couldn’t even promise to himself that he would hang out with them soon. His weekends were booked indefinitely.

            When Saturday came, Kenny was so excited to see Craig again that he didn’t even have the ability to feel guilty about not hanging out with Stan and Kyle. He was really sure they’d enjoy their time alone together anyway, just like he was going to enjoy his time alone with his super best…Craig ( _why didn’t the word friend seem to work just right anymore?_ ).

            They hadn’t gone to their tree in so long, it seemed. It used to be a ritual to visit the tree after school to carve out the stress of the day, but they no longer saw each other after school anymore, and weekends were so sacred, each minute had to be planned out strategically. They had spent so much time in the tree, it seemed like they should be doing new things on the weekends when they had five less days a week together. It was truly a case of not knowing what you had until it was gone. But that Saturday, Kenny just had an honest urge to go back to their roots, pun intended. He texted Craig to meet him there, and in no time, they were back up in the highest branches.

            Now that they were fifteen, it honestly did feel a little different. When they were young, it was innocent and natural. All the boys their age were climbing trees and making tree houses and trying to make one better than Kyle’s. Now, Kenny and Craig were the only boys who still found it to be a fine activity to do on a frequent basis. Even with how much less they were coming to their tree, it was still pretty regular.

            After puberty, sitting in a tree with someone else could lead to both rumors and ridicule. Kenny could just hear their classmates now.

            _Kenny and Craig, sitting in a tree,_ _K-I-S-S-I-N-G_ …

            He honestly didn’t think he would mind it. He honestly, secretly, deep in his heart, wished that he was kissing Craig in the tree. At fifteen, there was little else worth doing up there, and it had become such a monument of their relationship that it seemed like a sin not to be kissing up there. But it didn’t happen. And probably for good reason.

            They hadn’t been in the tree for more than twenty minutes, sitting and talking, when a voice called up to them.

            _“Kenny! Get your ass out of that tree!”_

            It was a pretty fucked up case of déjà vu. Luckily, there was no gun this time. There was no Thomas, either. Kenny knew that Thomas wasn’t an issue as far as his son’s friends and sexuality was concerned, but it was best that he wasn’t around anyway. All they needed was for Thomas to tell his son not to hang out with the kid next door because his dad was an actual psycho.

            “Guess I gotta go,” Kenny said. It would have been simpler had they been caught talking to each other on the ground, because they could just jog away anywhere, and Stuart would give up on chasing them in no time. Here, though, Stuart would have no problem sitting at the bottom of the tree all day, yelling up at the two of them, and that would have been an even worse Saturday than not seeing each other at all.

            “Will you be okay?” Craig asked. It nearly broke Kenny’s heart. Something in Craig’s tone always made him sound more serious or upset than he actually was. In this case, of course, Craig was pretty concerned. The last time Stuart had evicted Kenny from the tree, it had led to one of their more significant night visits. Even if Kenny put on a face in the daytime, like he was the bravest boy in the world and nothing was wrong anyway, Craig had come to learn what Kenny’s worst fears were, and it seemed like he was about to face some of them. Still, Kenny didn’t want Craig to have to expect the worse.

            “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. He can only do so much. I’ll see you tonight, I promise,” Kenny whispered. There was more to say, and a heavy silence filled the space between them, but they couldn’t risk more. With a small smile, Kenny climbed down out of the tree, and Craig watched father and son walk away with a sickening feeling of remembrance as he recalled the last time he had watched this exact scenario play out. This time, however, he eventually climbed down himself and followed.

 

_Craig Tucker: age 15_

            Craig kept a good distance from Kenny and Stuart, but he had to be sure for himself that Kenny really was going to be safe. When they reached their house, they slipped into the alley between it and Craig’s house – the very alley Kenny walked across to get into Craig’s room at night. For a moment, fear washed over Craig. There was no way that Stuart could know about their night visits, right? He wouldn’t block off the window…would he?

            Thankfully, they kept walking to the back of the house. There was no way to follow and see what they were doing back there without being noticed, so Craig rushed in his own house to look out an upstairs window. Their houses were close enough that Craig could easily see and hear what was going on in Kenny’s backyard. Once, it was a nuisance, since the dregs of society liked to gather back there to get up to all kinds of illegal activities in the wee hours of the night, but now it was rather convenient.

            It turned out that Stuart was having Kenny do hard labor; something about _sweating out the homo_ , or something like that. The funny thing was, Stuart had no evidence whatsoever that Kenny harbored gay thoughts or did anything remotely homosexual at all – this was entirely based on a friendship and having found them in a tree together after Kenny had been forbidden from hanging out with Craig. Of course, again, there was the silly stigma about being alone in a tree with someone after puberty, but that was beside the point, and in any case, there certainly hadn’t been any k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

            Kenny started out his tasks smirking in appropriate Kenny fashion as Stuart watched him. The tasks were pretty useless as well. Moving planks of wood from one side of the yard to the other, raking the dirt, attempting to clear a forest of weeds, and moving suspicious, large white packages from table to table to table and back again until Stuart seemed satisfied – Craig suspected that the white packages had something to do with drugs, but he honestly couldn’t be sure.

            Kenny looked up once or twice when Stuart wasn’t paying attention, as if he could feel Craig’s eyes on him, and smiled impishly, as if completing the useless and strenuous jobs was a joke that they had against Stuart. It was definitely a huge pride and power game that Kenny was playing with his father, proving that he would not only do the tasks, but laugh along while doing them. He was attempting to turn Stuart’s punishment on its head and mock him instead, and for a while, it worked really well.

            Craig stayed at the window as Kenny worked for several more hours. The yard was horrific, but even when it seemed like there was nothing left for Kenny to work on, Stuart would mess something up and have his son redo the job. Kenny did everything in his power to keep smiling and not break a sweat, but it was impossible. By hour three, he was soaked in sweat, so that his blonde hair was dark with it, and dripping in his eyes and into the dirt. His smile turned into a grimace as he was forced to remove his jacket and continue work in his wife beater. Craig would have been pleased with the view if he didn’t feel like he was watching some horrific documentary of a labor camp or something. At one point, Stuart had Kenny digging through dirt with his fingers to pull more difficult weeds out by the roots, and as the boy was on all fours, Stuart would kick him down, watch him clamber back up to his hands and knees, and kick him again. As Kenny continued to work, Stuart continued to drink, and it progressively became less of a disturbing game, and more of a dangerous scene that was fairly hard to watch. But Craig couldn’t turn away. If he couldn’t turn away, then the very least he could do was watch every sickening moment. There was no way that Kenny wouldn’t be ill later – the sun was going down, as was the temperature, and he continued to sweat hard with his jacket off. Every time he turned, Craig could see Kenny’s ribs through the thin white shirt, and his stomach turned.

            Craig hadn’t noticed exactly when the ordeal started – maybe somewhere around three – but it was nine when Stuart finally got bored (or cold) and went inside, freeing Kenny. Craig rushed down to his room, expecting to meet Kenny immediately. There was no way his friend was willingly going to stay in that house any longer, no matter how early it was, and even if his punishment was from associating with him in the first place. Worried as he was, Craig was honestly glad that Kenny was as proud and stubborn as he had proven himself to be; the more Stuart opposed their friendship, the quicker Kenny was to run straight back to him.

            Craig got back down to his room about the same time that Kenny made it to his window. His stomach flipped; Kenny looked truly awful now that he was up close.

            “Fuck – come in, hurry,” Craig urged, opening the window and then shutting it quickly once Kenny had tumbled inside. There was a moment of silence as Craig looked him up and down. He was completely drenched in snow and sweat; if he got past the night without falling ill, it would be a miracle. His hair, though it had been fairly clean back in the tree, was now grimy with dirt. In fact, his entire body, from his face to his exposed arms, was caked in a film of dirt. The tears in Kenny’s jeans had been there already, but Craig could see through the holes that his knees were bleeding. Kenny’s hands had probably gotten the worst of it. His knuckles were bruised, his cuticles were gnawed down, and his palms, with calluses and blisters that had been torn open, were oozing. This was all on top of how clearly unhealthy he already was. Craig never saw Kenny’s figure, as it was usually hidden under too-big outerwear. Even at night, his shirts were kind of baggy. Now, though, his wet wife beater clung to him and it was clear how thin he really was. The first thing that came to Craig’s mind was the bodies of punk rockers. In a lot of ways, it could be a romantic image, but all Craig could think of were the horrible conditions that caused the iconic thin figures; malnutrition, lack of sleep, and substance abuse. Craig knew, of course, that Kenny didn’t touch any hard stuff. He wanted to be as unlike his parents as humanly possible. Still, Craig had now started to see first hand the stages a body went through on meth, or heroin, even just by looking down his street, and the way he looked now, Kenny could have fit in with any of the disheveled addicts.

            The first thing Craig wanted to do was embrace Kenny, but he didn’t. Instead, he took the silent boy’s hand and led him to the bathroom. Kenny was never so quiet, but Craig couldn’t see how he wouldn’t be, after being raked across the coals as he had been. All energy had been exhausted on appearing to be unbroken in front of Stuart. Now, he could break in front of Craig.

            “You need to…clean up,” Craig said, stating the obvious. “You can take a shower. Um, here, let me fix it up.”

            Craig pushed his shower curtain aside and found the hot water. He didn’t know what Kenny’s shower looked like, but he did know that hot water wasn’t readily available in the McCormick household, so Craig assumed that it was something Kenny might like. He adjusted the temperature a little past medium warmth, not wanting his body to go into shock from nearing hypothermia to scalding hot. Still, he knew the warmth would also help Kenny’s muscles, which were sure to be sore.

            “Okay, the temperature should be good there. You can move it towards the H if you need it to be warmer, but be careful because it can get hot fast. You can use whatever soap I have in there. I’ll, um, get you a towel.”

            “Thanks,” Kenny said. His voice was a bit strained, but he was genuinely grateful.

            Craig turned to his cabinet to get a fresh towel. They weren’t exactly luxury hotel quality, but he hoped that Kenny would find them nice.

            “Go ahead and take your time, I won’t look at you,” Craig said, turning back to hand Kenny the towel, but Kenny was naked already, back facing him, stepping into the shower. Craig turned red involuntarily at the sight of his best friend’s bare back. God, he’s was thin.

            “Just – take your time,” Craig repeated, raising his voice over the pounding water. “I’ll wait in my room for you and bring you some fresh clothes.”

            Craig found some old sweats for Kenny and a soft band t-shirt. He had grown out of the sweats, but knew they’d still be baggy on Kenny just by looking at them. He figured with the shape Kenny was in, he might prefer something loose and comfortable. For good measure, he grabbed his absolute cleanest pair of underwear and hoped Kenny wouldn’t mind.

            The shower lasted for about half an hour, which was what Craig assumed to be how long it took for the hot water to run out. Personally, he had never stayed in the shower long enough to see how long the hot water actually did last, but he didn’t blame Kenny for savoring it.

            Kenny emerged with the towel around his waist, and although Craig had just seen his full naked backside, he still felt the need to avert his eyes. Really, it was no different than being in a locker room or seeing another guy in a bathing suit, but something about knowing that he was naked under that towel, and the fact that he was standing in his room made Craig more anxious. Being clean already made him look significantly better. He still looked weak, and tired, and downcast, but he looked a bit more like himself at least, and his hair was gold again, wet and brushed back out of his face.

            “Feel better?” Craig asked, swallowing hard.

            “So much,” Kenny sighed. His voice seemed to be gaining a bit of strength, though still restrained.

            “Um, here’s some stuff you can wear. I hope it’s okay,” Craig said, handing him the comfortable clothes. He started to second guess putting the fresh pair of boxers on top, but Kenny took the stack gratefully.

            “No, this is great, thank you. They smell so good,” he said, smelling them. Craig supposed they just smelled like laundry soap, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He was immediately self-conscious again about the boxers right on top.

            Kenny dropped the towel shamelessly to change and Craig expertly shifted his eyes away. He now realized he was doing this less for Kenny’s modesty (of which there appeared to be none) and more for his own self-preservation.

            Craig ended up being right about the clothes being baggy on Kenny; the sweats nearly slipped off of him as he fell onto the bed. Normally, Kenny shed his shirt once he was in bed (as the lights were usually off on other nights, Craig had never really focused on this). Now, he hugged the shirt to his body like the fabric itself was priceless. Craig was sure this was because of the cold – Kenny had not stopped shivering, even after coming out of the shower – but hoped it was also in part because the shirt had come from him.

            The glowing red clock by Craig’s bed read ten o’clock, but it certainly felt later, and just seeing Kenny worn and exhausted, washed up and in clean clothes, looked so comfortable, and Craig suddenly felt very drowsy as well.

            “I could sleep for twenty-four hours,” Kenny yawned. He closed his eyes for a moment, even though the lights were still on, but opened them again suddenly, as if he were afraid he might fall asleep.

            “You could,” Craig said. “You could skip school tomorrow. I think that would be fine. I bet you’re going to wake up sick. Not to be a downer.”

            “No, you’re probably right…That’s not a bad idea. Right now, I can’t imagine having to wake up early. I can’t even imagine standing back up, to be honest.”

            Kenny found his usual place on the spare pillow that had come to be known as his over the last few years and Craig turned off the light and slid in next to him. He could feel that Kenny’s body beside him was totally lax and dead-weighted into the mattress. He was so quiet tonight, and really, even on the night he had broken down in tears, Craig didn’t think he had ever seen Kenny so worn out. Tonight, he was probably too tired to cry, even if he had wanted to.

            Thoughts of that night made Craig realize he had to do something. Something more. Still, his relationship with Kenny was ambiguous as it had ever been. Craig cared for him, yes. In fact, Kenny was his favorite person. Naked Kenny made him blush, and Craig hoped Kenny liked wearing his shirt (even his boxers) because they were his. Yet he didn’t know if it was even okay to hold Kenny’s hand except, of course, when he spent the night crying his eyes out.

            Craig’s pinky finger searched shyly for Kenny’s, hoping it was alright, despite all they had been through. When he found Kenny’s hand, however, Kenny grabbed his, held their hands against his chest, and rolled over to fit into the crook of Craig’s arm. Craig never realized just how small Kenny was until he was in this position. Now, he didn’t want to stop realizing it if it meant that he could stay like this forever. Kenny’s head lay comfortably on his chest, his drying hair beginning to flop over his face. Craig knew that Kenny would be able to hear his heart pounding, but he didn’t even care. Nothing was worth moving at that moment. His free hand gently rubbed Kenny’s back, though he really wanted to stroke his hair.

            Kenny tilted his head upward and Craig froze, worried something might be wrong and that Kenny would change his mind and roll back away from him. Instead, his voice came like a whisper, though more from fear than exhaustion now.

            “Craig?” he breathed, though he hardly waited for a response. “I love you. I’m…I’m in love with you.”

            Craig tried to swallow twice and couldn’t – his mouth had immediately dried up. If Kenny hadn’t heard his heartbeat before, he certainly would be able to now. He squeezed Kenny’s hand on pure instinct before replying.

            “I’m in love with you, Kenny.”

            They slept the entire night in that position, with Craig holding Kenny. This was easy for Craig, unable to remember a happier moment. It was a shame that progressions like this generally occurred following some trauma of Kenny’s, but it was a sweet reward nonetheless. When they had first admitted liking each other, nights together hardly changed. Kenny’s night of breaking down had made them slightly more intimate, but even hand holding remained unknown territory. This, however, brought about a significant change. From that moment, every other night they spent together was spent wrapped up in each other, hearts pounding and hands held. Kenny even asked to take home the clothes that Craig had lent him so that he could be embraced even when he wasn’t. When Kenny had first asked, Craig had wanted to pick him up and spin him around and declare love for him a thousand more times over, but he managed to restrain himself.

            And although both Craig and Kenny felt that that I love you’s were sacred, like the words might not be respected by the universe if they were said in a place any less holy that Craig’s bedroom, they were not used sparingly at night. Every now and then, on especially sleepy or difficult nights, Craig fell asleep to the blissful sound of one thousand I love you’s, falling from Kenny’s lips like so many little prayers.

**oOo**

_Kenny McCormick: age 16_  
  
            “You taking the bus today, dude?” Stan called to Kenny across the hall. Since Craig had been living with his mom, Kenny had tried to spend more time during the week with Stan and Kyle. The more he blew them off, the worse he felt, although he was genuinely surprised that they really did miss him, despite having each other. It was weird. The difference between a friend you wanted to just laugh with and a friend you wanted to laugh with and make out with was weird.

            “Nah, I got something to do,” Kenny replied. Stan would assume it was one of his part-time jobs, which Kenny had now. He somehow felt even guiltier about blowing off Stan and Kyle when he was doing it to see Craig. He was allowed to hang out with anyone he wanted, especially his best-friend-that-he-loved-more-than-anyone, but he knew that his other friends never really understood how the relationship happened or worked. Of course, Kenny had never told them about their late night visits, or their confessions, or how they slept tangled in each other, or even about the tree that now felt like one of the most important places in Kenny’s life. It wasn’t just feeling guilty about blowing them off, or being friends with Craig, whom he knew Stan and Kyle had never been warm to. It was guilt over the fact that, as they had grown up, there were more and more things about Kenny that they just didn’t know. He supposed that was just part of growing up; falling in love with some friends and losing touch with others.

            Not that he didn’t still love Stan and Kyle. He always would. After Karen and Craig, they were his other favorite people. But Kenny’s mental dictionary had added a few more definitions of love over time, and like it or not, that changed things.

            He waited at the school’s street corner for Craig. It was still the middle of the week – not time for Craig to come home with him yet, but time enough to meet him before separating. They realized that hanging out after school, before having to go home, was a possibility and far later than they should have. Still, they made use of the few hours. Even with that, though, Kenny had a difficult time at night waiting for Craig to come back on Friday night. When his classmates daydreamed of the weekend and the parties and debauchery to come, Kenny wanted to spit at them. They didn’t know what it meant to long for the weekend.

            Kenny kind of wanted to go to the tree, which was where he would always go with Craig if he had his way, but as perfect as the tree was, it couldn’t change the fact that the location was shit. The actual definition of shit. Let alone the toxic waste pool it grew by, the amount of junkie degenerates that hung around it seemed to grow by the day. And of course, Stuart had a tendency to be one of the degenerates. And overall, it was kind of too far to make Craig travel if he wasn’t staying at his house on that side of the tracks.

            “Hey, where we going?” Craig said, stepping up beside Kenny. He wished again that the whole world was as sacred as Craig’s bedroom so he could embrace him right there on the corner, or at least hold his hand. That was another thing Kenny’s friends didn’t seem to know about him – he had fallen in love with a boy. He didn’t think Stan and Kyle would care that much. Everyone knew Craig was gay and they didn’t care. But then, they didn’t really care about Craig period. And judged on all the tits they pointed out to him, Kenny would venture to guess that they were pretty unaware that his full affections were concentrated on one person (a person that definitely had no tits to be seen). And it wasn’t that Kenny didn’t like girls anymore, either. He just didn’t feel the need to think about them that way when he had a Craig, and his friends were completely ignorant of the fact.

            The truth of the matter was that, even if he hoped Stan and Kyle wouldn’t care, there was always a little bitty chance that they would care. And that was just two people. For sure, Cartman would have something to say about it. He had something to say about everything. Stuart’s reaction had fucked everything up. Kenny had assumed that his parents wouldn’t care if he lived or died (based on the literal gamble they took with his life at a fucking cult meeting, that had proven to be pretty true), so why would they care who he liked or kissed or hung out with? But Stuart cared. Aside from his vices, it seemed to be what he cared most about. Stuart cared more about the possibility of his son being gay, and what his own reputation might be in that case, that whether or not said son lived or died. So while there was a decent chance that Stan, and Kyle, and anyone else for that matter, might not care that he was in love with Craig, there was a possibility that everyone might care as much as Stuart. And so very little places were sacred the way Craig’s bedroom was.

            “I dunno,” Kenny finally answered. There was no where else they really ever went besides places on their side of the tracks. “Somewhere nice.”

            As they began to walk, Kenny felt Craig’s hand brush against his and he wanted nothing more than to just grab it, but he restrained himself. All in due time.

            “What about here?” Kenny suggested after walking aimlessly for a few minutes. They were staring down a brick alley, and honestly, had forgotten the path they took to get there. In any case, it was out of the way, and the buildings on either side seemed to be closed or abandoned.

            “Looks cozy,” Craig said honestly. “Look, the walls are blank.”

            Actually, cleanliness was a bit of a miracle for a brick alley anywhere in the world, let alone in South Park. It seemed to be a sign that this was the place for them. A clean alley; maybe they had accidentally walked into a different dimension.

            “It’s not home, but it’ll do,” Kenny said with a grin, and they settled into the alley. Alleys were odd places, Kenny thought, but that was kind of why it was perfect. In South Park, they belonged to edgy 6th graders, mopey goth kids, and drug dealers. And now it also belonged to pair that only seemed to belong in places they discovered and built together.

            Kenny threw his backpack down, opened it, and pulled out a colorful serape blanket. The walls protected the ground of the alley from getting too snowy, but it still wasn’t a great place to sit. Kenny’s blanket wasn’t much and had at least two holes burned into it from cigarettes, but it did give their little spot a homier and cozy feeling.

            “Did you know we were going to end up here?” Craig asked, skeptical.

            “No, honest,” Kenny said. “But I figured we might wanna be comfy wherever it was we ended up. Can never be too prepared.”

            Craig seemed satisfied enough with the response and helped Kenny spread the blanket out.

            “I feel like we should add something to the walls sometime,” Craig said.

            “Yeah…like our tree. Mark it as ours. Or not, ya know? It’s so...fuckin’ weird to see brick walls with no graffiti on them. Maybe this will be how we remember which one is ours.”

            Craig smiled at Kenny like he was agreeing and something in that smile struck Kenny intensely. He was reminded of what Craig had that other people in his life didn’t. He knew from that smile that Craig understood him and appreciated him and agreed with what he had said. No words were needed. Craig rarely needed words, or wanted them. He was so honest that he got his point across immediately and never really hid how he felt, and it was such…a brilliant way to communicate. All these years, Craig always understood him, and he always understood Craig, regardless of their different ways of speaking and willingness to speak. And even when Kenny had a hard time opening up, Craig never once pressed him, despite his own ability to speak plainly and opinion that everyone else should, too. That smile was everything to Kenny.

            And it was that smile that took Kenny from sitting in his spot on the blanket, to crawling over to Craig, until he was right between the boy’s legs, despite all his previous inhibitions. He let himself believe that their alley really was in an undetectable alternate dimension. All that was real was Craig and the worn blanket and their brick sanctuary, and Kenny closing the gap between them.

            Kenny had though of kissing Craig perhaps a thousand or more times in the last year, and had never let on. Honest as he was, if Craig had also thought about kissing, he hadn’t said a word.  The feeling was better than anything Kenny had imagined in those thousand times. Lips seemed to be perpetually chapped in the cold of Colorado, but Craig was a firm believer in chapstick, and the kiss was softer than Kenny had guessed it would be. It was a pleasant surprise.

            Craig did nothing at first, likely shocked, but then responded a second or two in, and the way he pressed back against Kenny told him that maybe he had thought about kissing a bit, too.

            The first kiss lasted just a few seconds, and it was rather tame, just giving the boys time to become familiar with the feel of the other’s mouth on theirs. It was a moment that had mutually pined over for longer than either was going to admit, and truthfully, they both just needed time to savor the climax they had gotten to. It seemed like their entire lives had been building up to their lips meeting, like they each had untapped electricity within themselves that couldn’t conduct until they kissed. 

            “Sorry,” Kenny said, not totally sure why he was apologizing. “That…was okay, right?”

            “It was more than okay,” Craig said, eyes a bit wide.

            “Can I -,”

            “Will you -,”

            The boys laughed, embarrassed and excited at how they had both revealed themselves as eager and greedy, asking for more simultaneously. Kenny started again, slowly.

            “Can I do it again?”

            Craig nodded, and Kenny crawled back between his legs. This time, Craig was ready for him, reaching out his hands to place behind Kenny’s head and pulling him in. Kenny had always appreciated how long Craig’s fingers were, but he appreciated them so much more playing with his hair as they continued to get used to the feel of each other’s mouths.

             Inevitably, they hungered for more, and soon, their tongues were meeting, too. It was hard to say how this was initiated, just as it was hard to tell who was dominant. It was like the floodgates had opened now, and they had just this moment to prove to each other how much they had wanted this.

            Craig pulled away for a minute to figure out how to breathe again as Kenny moved down his neck.

            “Do – do you really think we’re safe here?” Craig asked cautiously.

            Kenny pulled away too, and looked at him. They both knew that Craig meant _do you think_ you’re _safe here? Do you think your friends will pass by? What if Eric passes by? Do you think anyone will walk by and tell Stuart? Do you think Stuart will pass by? I’ve been single for a while, but no one would think twice if they caught me kissing boys in alleys. But they aren’t expecting you. Is this a place where Stuart McCormick’s boy won’t get caught?_

            For a second – just a second – Kenny felt fear when he saw concern in Craig’s eyes, and everything he had thought about while waiting for Craig at the corner of the school came flooding back. And then, just as soon as it had come up, it was gone again. As much as there was fear in Craig’s dark eyes, there was also safety and comfort. Craig was where Kenny ran to when he was afraid, and when things were wrong, and when Kenny felt hated. Craig was home. If anything bad happen, this was what Kenny would want to run to, and he was already here. It was a strange thing, having your worst fears and greatest comforts be so closely related, but Kenny figured that, as long as he was here, nothing could really hurt him. He was already in the most blissful place he could be.

            “Yeah, we’re safe,” Kenny said.

**oOo**

_Craig Tucker: age 17_

            Craig was spending that Sunday morning in his room at his dad’s house. As they got older, Kenny and Craig gained more responsibilities, and couldn’t spend 100% of the weekends together, despite it being the only time they could spent 100% of their time together. They compromised and decided that, as long as they got something done in the first half of the day, they could hang out all they wanted from 3 pm on during weekend nights.

            He sat cross-legged on his bed doing English homework, willing the clock to move faster. They had once thought that doing homework together might work, but nothing ever got done that way. Craig was trying to learn to enjoy alone time, but he had so much of it during the week. Weekend homework was a true sin. He tried to appreciate the warm sun coming in through his window and streaking across his bed, but all he could think of was how much Kenny would like it, and how the sun would be gone by the time 3 o’clock rolled around. Kenny never got to see his room when it was sunny and warm. It seemed more open that way, and homey. He deserved to see it. His dark room at midnight suited them well, but sometimes Craig felt, for as much as he reveled in the dark night, that they should bask in the sun a little more.

            At that moment, he heard a horrible cacophony coming from next door. It wasn’t unusual, although it was coming a little earlier in the day. Craig suddenly felt bad for doing his homework alone and peacefully, even though it was exactly how they had agreed things would happen. He even felt bad for enjoying the sun, because Kenny’s bedroom window was never in an angle to get any.

            The sounds from next door grew louder, but the words were not easy to make out. There seemed to be more banging and crashing and incoherent noises than anything. When the noise seemed to reach a crescendo, along with what seemed to be screams, Craig nudged his work to the side and peaked out the window. He heard Kenny’s front door open and slam so hard, it had to have broken. Craig ducked down away from the window quickly, afraid he might be caught spying, even with his window out of view.

            Suddenly, Craig heard his own front door click unlocked, open, and slam as well. It was the first time that Kenny had ever used the emergency spare key Craig had made him. Craig heard Kenny lock the door behind him and in seconds, he was standing in Craig’s room.

            Craig looked up from his bed to Kenny standing in his door frame and his entire mouth went dry. Kenny’s eye was blackening quickly and he had blood starting to run from a bad split in his lip. And every time Craig began to process one injury, his eyes were drawn to another, until he realized that Kenny had terrible bruises blossoming across every inch of visible skin. And yet, there was a vast difference in his expression between now and the day Stuart had worked him nearly to death. Now, he looked livid and passionate and more alive than ever.

            “Don’t worry, I hit him back,” Kenny said, out of breath from having sprinted from his house. They could hear Stuart shouting out for Kenny to come back – he hadn’t noticed where his son had run to and certainly hadn’t expected him to have a key for the Tuckers’ front door. Based on Kenny’s state, Craig had a feeling that if he did hit Stuart back, it wasn’t much. Kenny had a tendency to try to make things sound not as bad as they were, even if Craig was staring directly at the damage.

            Craig continued to stare. Things were bad, really bad, but he was lost for words.

            “How, I mean…why? What…?”

            “Someone, or several someones, saw us together and told Stuart,” Kenny said as he turned around to shut and lock Craig’s door. Craig wasn’t sure why he did this – the front door was already locked – but it didn’t seem like a good moment for those kinds of questions.

            “I don’t know who saw, or when, or where, but someone must have because Stuart described the situation pretty damn well. He didn’t see anything, but now he has some confirmation that I’ve not only been hanging around you still, but that I’ve been pretty fucking gay with you, too.”

            “Shit,” Craig said. He knew that alley was going to come back to bite them. It was too urban and too good to be true.

            Kenny wiped the blood from his mouth and started walking towards Craig, who was still fairly frozen on the bed. Blood on his temple had streaked down to meet his cheekbone, but that along with the purple around his eye, really just made him seem attractively devil-may-care. His deadly, animalistic expression wasn’t helping. If he wasn’t mistaken, Craig thought he appeared to be a bit lustful even.

            “What are you doing?” Craig asked, confused by the smirking and battered Kenny, and the now locked bedroom door, and the fact that Kenny didn’t seem to feel pain, and the way he was inching closer and closer as they were still just able to hear Stuart shouting outside.

            “Giving them something to talk about,” Kenny whispered, and bent down to Craig’s level, kissing him. It wasn’t their first kiss, of course. It wasn’t even their first kiss on Craig’s bed (plenty of the nights over the course of the last year had included a goodnight kiss or two), but it was unquestionably different from the rest. Craig had been right; something animalistic had awakened in Kenny, and there was a depth and urgency to the kiss that they hadn’t had before. Before, they took their time. Even when they got really into it in the alley, their kisses still maintained curiosity and a sense of exploration. All of that was gone. Kenny knew what he wanted, and he was coming for it with a passion and a vengeance. Craig, for one, was all for it, and responded with fervor, though he had to admit he was still pretty concerned about Kenny’s condition.

            Kenny climbed onto Craig’s lap with ease, forcing them both back further on the bed. They readjusted until they were laying long ways, with Craig’s head on his pillow and Kenny straddling his hips. For all the kisses they had had in the bed before, they had all been rather chaste and sleepy. This was a brand new experience. Even just the fact that it was daytime was enough to change things. Craig supposed Kenny got to experience the sun in the window now, as it streaked across his back. Not quite the scenario he had envisioned.

            “Kenny,” Craig tried saying against his mouth.

            “Hm? Too fast?” Kenny asked. It was funny that he, with all the injuries, was asked.

            “Not at all,” Craig panted, “but should we cover my window or something?”

            Kenny paused and looked up at it. The sun bathed his face and turned his hair bright gold. “Fuck no,” he said. “If he sees, let him see, the sick bastard. If he’s gunna do this to me, I might as well give him a good reason.”

            Craig didn’t bother mentioning that no matter how much they did, there could never be a good reason to beat up your kid. He understood the point that was being made. Locking the door was surely to spare Thomas and Tricia, just in case, but Kenny’s beating had had the opposite effect it was intended to have; he didn’t care anymore, and he certainly didn’t care about being seen. How much more could Stuart do? Whether this extended to his friends or not yet was unclear, but it was certain that Stuart was a non-issue, and if anything, should now be flaunted in front of.

            “If you’re sure,” Craig said, and let Kenny consume him again.

            The sun was a brilliant addition. In general, Craig wasn’t a huge fan of the sun. It burned and it blinded and it made you sweaty. But their tree blocked out the sun, as did their alley, and their quiet, private nights. This one moment deserved to take place in the sunlight. It offered healing and it offered heat, and if it wasn’t fueling Kenny, it was at the very least turning him golden and glorious. Despite the bruises and blood, his hair shone and his freckles stood out. It was how Kenny deserved to be all the time, a golden boy in the light.

            Kenny’s mouth found its way to Craig’s neck, as it did from time to time, but he didn’t bother being careful, the way he usually was, to avoid leaving evidence. He kissed Craig’s neck like he kissed his mouth, already leaving marks, and Kenny began to unbutton his flannel to get to his collar bones. Aside from the feeling of Kenny’s lips on his skin, Craig was getting hard just from the weight of Kenny on him, and the feeling of their jeans creating friction between each other. He was exciting just thinking about what Kenny must be thinking about, to make him so passionate all of a sudden. He wanted to kiss the crook of Kenny’s neck too, and give him matching marks, until he realized that Kenny probably had plenty already. Craig wondered with a strange mixture of sadness and pleasure if Kenny was doing this to give him matching marks. He now already had a harsh purple splotch next to his Adam’s apple.

            As Kenny shifted to find an unkissed spot, his crotch rubbed against Craig’s erection, which caused Craig to twitch immediately and involuntarily. Kenny’s eyes shot up to meet Craig’s and his eyebrows raised. The blood on his temple had dried. It could almost be paint now.

            “Kenny?” Craig asked again, before he let his golden boy ravage him.

            “Yeah?”

            “You’re not…doing all this just to prove a point, right?”

            Kenny sobered for a moment and didn’t shift his eyes away. “Craig. I love you. All of this, and I mean all of this, is because I love you.”

            Craig knew what he meant. It wasn’t just the kisses and the lust. It was six years of loyalty and longing, the tears, the tree, the beatings and coming back every time despite them, and when he caused them. Kenny was in the state he was in because he loved Craig. He had been worked nearly to death because he loved Craig. He slipped into the window at night because he loved Craig. And he was here again because he loved Craig.

            “I love you, Kenny.”

            “You’re okay, then?”

            “I’m okay. Keep going…please.”

            Kenny smiled, the animal coming back in a flash, and he unbuttoned the rest of Craig’s flannel. Already, this was further than they had ever gone. They had seen each other shirtless, sure, but they had never kissed anywhere other than the mouth, and had never felt each other’s erections so intimately. And now Kenny’s hands were teasing the edge of Craig’s pants. He twitched again in anticipation, and though his heart rate was speeding up to what were surely unhealthy levels, he nodded, urging Kenny to go further. This was it. This was happening, and he wanted it all. Kenny’s blood, sweat, tears, bruises, love, and callused fingers; he was as ready and willing to take it all as he had ever been.

            This, Kenny did a bit more slowly, as he also realized it was really happening. He regained his confidence again soon enough and slid Craig’s jeans off of him as his knees remained on either side of him. Kenny bit the bullet, the way you would jump into a cold pool or rip off a band-id, and slid Craig’s boxers off without hesitating. Were he to hesitate, he might have never worked himself up to it.

            Craig inhaled sharply from the sudden cold, the very slight relief of a freed erection, and the ultimate awareness that there was nothing left between Kenny and his own nakedness. Kenny was seeing him as he was, 100%. This was it. This was all there was left.

            Craig wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. He wasn’t necessarily self-conscious (he had never really thought of being self-conscious before), but he did care about Kenny’s opinion, and Kenny was the one that had to look at him. He wondered if he should ask Kenny what he thought, but before he could make himself sound ridiculous, Kenny plunged down, his mouth finding its way around his cock.

            “Fucking…fuck,” Craig breathed, not nearly as prepared as he had thought he had been. He had touched himself before (hadn’t all the boys?), and he usually did it to the thought of Kenny (who else?), but this was nothing in comparison. It wasn’t just better. It was a different plane of existence entirely.

            Kenny didn’t look up, seeming to be fully immersed in his job. He seemed anything but displeased with how Craig looked, which was enough fuel alone for him to yell out, but he didn’t. He did grunt, however, when Kenny’s tongue swirled around his head, while his hands worked the base of Craig’s shaft. Kenny even let his fingers run gently across Craig’s balls, which was a place he never thought of focusing on when he was alone. It was genius. Already he felt like he was seeing stars, and he almost wanted to ask Kenny to stop, just so that the moment wouldn’t end too soon. The devilish curse of being inexperienced. He wondered how Kenny seemed to know what to do so effortlessly and how he knew exactly what would drive him crazy.

            And then, as if Kenny knew that Craig needed a break, he popped off and sat up.

            “How was that?” Kenny asked, honestly. He was a bit out of breath, and the question was innocent and earnest, but his expression was still hungry.

            “I – it was, I mean you are…amazing. It was amazing.”

            “Great,” Kenny smiled. “Um…”

            He trailed off, digging for something in his back pocket, and finally pulling out a small purple square.

            “I wondered if you’d like to – I mean, we don’t have to, but I…would love to if you wanted…”

            Craig realized it was a condom and he nearly bit his tongue off. It almost seemed like too good of a proposition to be true, and the fact that it had been in Kenny’s pocket seemed to prove that he had intended to ask all along.

            “Yes, fuck yes, of course,” Craig said. He didn’t necessarily know what he was doing, but who ever did, really? And Kenny seemed to have learned something from somewhere, and in that moment, Craig didn’t even care to ask where that somewhere was. Whatever Kenny asked of him, he was ready to give it.

            After receiving his approval, Kenny tore the package open and rolled the condom slowly over Craig. Craig hadn’t even had time to consider who would wear it and who would do what, but he trusted Kenny’s decision making. After all, it wasn’t like there could be any wrong decisions in this bliss.

            Kenny produced a small travel size tube of lube from his other pocket and handed it to Craig.

            “Okay, you’re going to have to help me here,” Kenny said. “We’re going to do this right. We may need the full bottle of that stuff.”

            Inexperienced as he was, Craig had watched enough porn to know what that meant. He watched Kenny slide his own pants off, slack jawed. He was unfairly good looking. Without prompting, Craig immediately got off his back and took Kenny in his mouth. Just based on what Craig knew felt good, he moved his mouth up and down Kenny’s length, as Kenny sat up on his knees. Instinct began to take over, and it was all Craig could do to keep from devouring Kenny completely. Kenny’s hands found Craig’s hair and tugged on it, and Craig found the he even enjoyed the slight pain of it. His hands felt for the lube and gingerly, he began prepping Kenny the way he had seen on video.

            Eventually, Craig had to relinquish the sweet spot he had with his mouth around working Kenny, so that Kenny could reposition himself and Craig could give full attention to his ass. He tried not to be distracted by how pretty of an ass it actually was. It was one part of Kenny that had been left unmarked and unbruised, as if it had been saved just for Craig.

            Craig took his time prepping but enjoyed every minute of it. He liked thinking of it as taking care of Kenny, and it was made better by knowing that it was what Kenny wanted, and what Kenny also considered to be healing. It was erotic alone to think that he was prepping Kenny for himself and it was enough to make him want to take Kenny there as he was positioned in all fours. Finally, though, Kenny felt that he was ready and had Craig lay back down on the pillow.

            “So I can see your face,” Kenny said. “And so I can show you what you mean to me.”

            Craig didn’t immediately understand why the position changed the way Kenny showed his affections, but he didn’t have time to think as Kenny lowered himself slowly onto Craig, gasping softly as he did so. Craig couldn’t help but shut his eyes in ecstasy. Even after prepping, Kenny was unbelievably tight. Kenny raised and lowered himself two more times, Craig shutting his eyes the entire time, until Kenny was able to take all of Craig inside of him. It was a closeness unlike any Craig had ever experienced before.

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kenny whispered to himself.

            “You okay?” Craig asked, hardly okay himself.

            “God…yeah, I…yes. You good?”

            Craig swallowed hard, expressing the only thought in his mind. “You feel fucking incredible.”

            Kenny took that as permission to continue. He raised and lowered himself slowly again and again, until he decided he was ready to pick up speed.

            As he got faster, his breathing got heavier, and Craig had to remind himself to try to keep his eyes open to watch Kenny. The sun still shone on him, just slightly, glinting off the sweat that was starting to form across his forehead and chest. Under his bruises and blood, Kenny’s cheeks and nose were getting red, his eyes were half lidded, and his lips were parted and wet, connected by a thin line of saliva, and Craig knew he had never seen anything so explicitly beautiful before.

            Kenny continued to rock hard against Craig, and Craig finally sat up so they were sitting cross-legged around each other, arms wrapped around one another. They looked each other in the eyes and grabbed fistfuls of each others hair, and then Craig knew what Kenny had meant about showing him. In this position and face to face, Kenny was able to control the pace and show Craig exactly how much he wanted to be filled up with him. He showed Craig how much pleasure he wanted to receive from him. He had the power to slow it down and torture Craig if he wanted to, but he didn’t. As they sat, wrapped up in each other, desperately finding each others mouths, Kenny never stopped rocking, with Craig deep inside of him. Craig could tell every time he hit the sweet spot, because Kenny would groan into his mouth, and Craig had to keep himself from biting Kenny’s already split lip.

            It probably didn’t take long for them to come, but Craig felt as if they had spent a heavenly eternity together. They fell back on the bed, naked, panting, and sticky with sex and sweat. They were spent and exhausted, yet all Craig wanted to do when it was over was kiss Kenny again and nurse his wounds and lick the remaining cum from the tip of his cock.

            Kenny slid into the crook of Craig’s arm, apparently having a similar idea.

            “That…was fucking great,” he said. “I mean, it’s probably only gunna get better. But I think that was pretty great. We’d give Stuart a goddamn run for his money.”

            “We could practice,” Craig suggested bluntly, smirking at the end.

            “I like the way you think.”

            “You know what else I was thinking?”

            “Hm?”

            “Just…when you were on me, and the sun was on you, and everything, that…just that you’re the fucking most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

            “…Shut the fuck up.”

            “I’m serious.”

            Kenny paused for a moment, and Craig thought he could actually hear a smile. “I really am in love with you, Craig Tucker.”

            And those were the last words said before they fell into a deep nap, naked on top of the covers, reveling in the final light of the morning sun as it rose up and above the sacred window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 just.....took away all my italics...I think I put them back in the important spots, but if you read a word you think would be better in italics...that's why.
> 
> OKAY HERE'S THE LINK TO THE FOOLS MV, IT'S THIS CHAP IN 4 MINUTES, REALLY!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxg222-hWWc
> 
> (also I'm on tumblr also @ irlmagicalgirl. My blog is pink & South Park)


	4. Talk Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanna sleep next to you  
> But that's all I wanna do right now  
> And I wanna come home to you  
> But home is just a room full of my safest sounds  
> 'Cause you know that I can't trust myself with my three A.M. shadow  
> I'd rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death, implied overdose, rehab
> 
> We're circling back around here - the song for this chap is, of course, Talk Me Down, semi-inspired by the music video of the same name.
> 
> (ayy shout out to Troye Sivan)

_I wanna sleep next to you_  
_But that's all I wanna do right now_  
 _And I wanna come home to you_  
 _But home is just a room full of my safest sounds_  
 _'Cause you know that I can't trust myself with my three A.M. shadow_  
 _I'd rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone_

 _-_ _Talk Me Down,_ Troye Sivan

  
**oOo**

_Kenny McCormick – age 17_

            Kenny watched unwaveringly as his father was lowered into the ground. The coffin was quite literally a plain wooden box, and the plot was in what could only be considered undesirable real estate. Funerals weren’t exactly cheap, and neither of Kenny’s parents had life insurance, but they got a pretty good deal, even if it meant that Carol had to sell off a few things.  
  
            Surprisingly, plenty of people came to pay their respects to Stuart.  
  
            Unsurprisingly, most of these people hadn’t even spoken to him in years.  
             
            None of Stuart’s meth head friends came. If Stuart hadn’t been a frequent provider of their fixes, they might not have even known that he was gone.

            The Broflovskis and the Marshes were there, even though Gerald had stopped associating with Stuart years prior, and Randy had ultimately decided that even Stuart was a bit crazy for him.  
             
            Kyle and Stan stood loyally with Kenny, and Kyle even squeezed his hand, despite the fact that they knew he hadn’t been telling them very much about his life. They were still unclear on exactly where his relationship stood with Craig, and they definitely didn’t know that the home abuse had gotten worse, because that would have required them to know that Stuart was homophobic, which would lead them to know that Kenny had been _quite_ homosexual with Craig. It all created a neat little circle that Kenny’s old friends knew very little about, speculation aside. They hadn’t even had any idea that Stuart was close to death, but to be fair, Kenny really hadn’t known either. That was the crazy thing about overdoses. They really snuck up on you.

            Kenny didn’t think he deserved to have Kyle and Stan there, just as he didn’t think that Stuart deserved for _any_ of those people to be there. It wasn’t even like Kenny was really broken up about the loss of his father. In regards to his personal affairs, he figured he was better off. If anything, he was more concerned about what the state of his remaining family would be. It wasn’t like Stuart was very helpful around the house, or to anyone other than druggies for that matter, but funny enough, the help he _did_ give those druggies came back around to them now and again. Money didn’t come in as often as it would have with a full time job, but the money Kenny’s family _did_ see from Stuart’s drug sales helped, and that couldn’t be denied.  
  
            Well, they were probably better off without his dirty money, anyway. Maybe.

            No one had suggested _he_ start selling, which he felt was a bit shocking. He had even kind of expected Carol to hint at him to sell, but she hadn’t.

            Kenny had always, _always_ thought that she was a good mother. Carol and Stuart had taken similar paths in life, but a lot of Carol’s downfalls had come from Stuart’s poison, and maybe in a different setting, she could have thrived. In fact, there was still time for her, Kenny thought. She was relatively young, as far as mothers went. She just had a lot of darkness in her head. When she locked herself in her room, Kenny imagined an inky black cloud fogging up her brain. At least, that’s how he tried to explain it to Karen when his sister was too young to truly understand debilitating depression, and how it could stem from financial hardships, and a bad marriage, and drugs. He drew a picture for her in crayons and explained that Mama had a Brain Sickness, like a little dark infection, and she seemed to understand that way.  
             
            So maybe it was unfair of him to think that she would expect him to take up the _family business_. It was Stuart’s involvement in it that had sent her over the edge. But still, that’s just what people thought of the McCormick’s. That’s what they did. So even if it was wrong, it seemed like it would be what they would continue to expect. 

            Money would need to come from _somewhere_ , and as much as Stuart’s death was going to help Carol mentally, it was obvious that she still wasn’t in a real working condition. The idea of it all turned Kenny’s stomach more than the thought of death did. He was months away from really needing to think about college, and while he had already known that his options were limited, they seemed non-existent now. It was too much to hope that Kevin would be any help – he hadn’t even shown up to the funeral at all.

            After all the time he had spent away from his friends, they still cared for him. Which he actually felt kind of shitty about. And even shittier about the fact that he believed they might be anything like Stuart and hate him for being in love with Craig. In retrospect, that all sounded _really_ fucking stupid. He had sworn to himself that, at the time, it was a perfectly valid fear. Maybe it still was. But the way Kyle squeezed his hand again made the guilt pool in the pit of his stomach.  
  
            “If you guys need anything, and I mean _anything_ , promise you’ll tell me,” Kyle whispered to him, and Stan nodded as if to say the same. It had always been difficult for Stan to say things in these kinds of situations, but he always meant well. Kenny smiled at them.        

            “Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thank you.”        

            At one time, Kenny would have turned them down, seeing it as charity and being unwilling to sacrifice his pride, but this went beyond that. Besides the fact that he probably _would_ need help in the coming months (and maybe years), he was overwhelmed by how caring his friends were, even despite neglect. He didn’t deserve it at all, which was, ironically, the reason he accepted. They were too good for him. So was Craig, honestly, but he tried not to think too hard about that, afraid that he might force himself to let Craig go to let him pursue someone more worthy. 

            Suddenly, Stan nudged him, and pointed ahead. Craig had just showed up with Thomas, who was very visibly distraught. Thomas was a good guy, Kenny decided. He supposed he had already known, but this made it a sure thing. Either he was upset for Stuart’s passing, which he had no real reason to be, or upset for the situation Kenny and his family were being left in. Either way, to Kenny, his remorse pointed to him being a pretty decent guy.

            Once again, as he realized the feeling probably wasn’t going to stop manifesting any time soon, he felt like he didn’t deserve his friends. Stan, who didn’t even _like_ Craig, had the decency to guess that he was exactly who Kenny needed to see. And that was _without_ knowing they were a couple. Kyle and Stan just wanted him to be happy, however that happened. Even if they weren’t always there to see it happen. Even if they were weren’t involved.  
            
            _Goddamn, I’m a dick_.  
          
            “It’s cool, dude,” Stan said earnestly. “He wants you to see him. You wanna see him, too. Don’t you?”  
        
            Kenny looked at both his friends, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Yeah.”  
       
            “Go on, we’re cool,” Kyle said, and offered a small smile. It was really weird smiling and seeing people trying to smile on a funeral day. It was hard to tell what emotions were behind it. At the very least, Kenny knew his friends were being sincere.  
      
            _That does it. After this shit show, I’m telling them about me and Craig_.  
             
            He didn’t _owe_ the information to anyone, but Kyle and Stan had been unconditionally good to him, and just as honest. It just seemed right. He was a shitty friend. The least he could give them was the truth. It was only fair to give them credit and know they wouldn’t hate him for loving a guy. Let alone Craig. If they didn’t hate him by now, he thought he would be pretty in the clear.

            “I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah? Promise,” Kenny said, and left them to subtly shuffle to Craig. Thomas took the hint quickly and shuffled himself in the opposite direction, towards Stan and Kyle’s dads.

            All Kenny really wanted in that moment was for Craig to hold his hand, but they were both wise enough to know that it wasn’t quite the moment.    

            Craig knew better than to ask how Kenny felt, or how he was doing. He _definitely_ knew better than to say sorry. Because he really wasn’t. Maybe sorry about the spot Kenny was in, but in the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t _that_ much worse than he had already been. He just looked at Kenny and smiled that ironic smile.  
       
            “I’m here,” he said, and Kenny knew he was referring to both the funeral and to life.  
      
            “You’re here.”  
  
            And that was all that needed to be said.

  
**oOo**

 

            When the funeral ended, everyone went back home, seemingly as though nothing had happened. To the vast majority of the town, Stuart’s death was just another one of those little things that happened in South Park that people dealt with and immediately forgot. The funeral was an inconvenience to some, perhaps, and a convenience to others (perhaps those looking to get bereavement time from work). But mostly it was a non-issue to the (usually) law abiding citizens that had attended.

            The Marshes and the Broflovskis were amongst these. Not that they really _meant_ to be, but even Gerald, who had been Stuart’s best friend once, would be over it quickly. To him, Stuart had already been dead for years. Stan and Kyle didn’t really know how to feel. Troubled for Kenny, sure, but they had that compassion towards him regardless. Stuart had never been _their_ favorite person, and that was without Kenny detailing the recent abuse he had been forced through. Kenny did go back over to them when the funeral was over, hugging them genuinely and thanking them for coming, but ultimately excusing them. There weren’t really any written rules regarding how long old friends were supposed to stick around following a funeral like that, but Kenny knew there was too much to be said, and that wasn’t exactly the most opportune time. With visible traces of regret, they followed their fathers home with tears in their eyes. Not for the first time, Kenny was reminded that his friends were mourning for _him_ , and not the deceased.      

            It wasn’t long until Kenny and Craig were the only two left in the graveyard. Carol left with Father Maxi, possibly discussing donations, amongst other matters of the soul, and Karen tagged along slowly, leaving Kenny with a look of sorrow that reminded him too much and too soon of his friends.     

            With everyone but Craig gone, the cemetery felt warmer somehow. They had wandered away from Stuart’s box and the gaping hole in the ground, and from that point, it just felt comfortable. It was possible that Craig’s presence was what did it – he always made Kenny feel warm – but it was also true that Kenny felt at peace in cemeteries. That was a strange trait that seemed exclusive to him. When one died as often as he did with no major repercussions, death began to feel like home, too. Death, for Kenny, was as much of a constant as Craig now was. 

            There really had never been any doubt that Craig was just what Kenny needed. Not perfect – no one was, and Kenny himself felt he especially seemed to miss the mark of perfection. But Craig had always _understood_ Kenny perfectly, and spoke to him perfectly, and knew the perfect thing to do at the perfect time, and that was enough. More than enough, and certainly more than he felt he deserved, but the list of what Kenny felt he deserved was rather short and growing shorter, particularly in comparison to what his loved ones continued to do for him, so he thought it best not to dwell on that point for too long. For the sake of self-preservation. 

            Without words, the pair had walked a good distance from the burial site. It seemed appropriate to the both of them that any conversation should be had away from the area.           

            “You look…peaceful,” Craig said finally. Kenny was taken aback. Though the feelings of warmth had overtaken him rather suddenly, they were the last emotion he expected to show on his face. He supposed he wasn’t the best at hiding the extent of his emotions. Or maybe Craig was just that good at reading him. He had, after all, seen the very full extent of Kenny’s emotional range.          

            “I guess, a little,” Kenny finally said. “I kinda always feel like that in cemeteries.” He didn’t need to explain why, and Craig could never know exactly why, but he understood. If anyone could, it was Craig.  
            
            “Yeah. It’s nice, in a way. Humbling, I guess.”

            He still refused to ask how Kenny was _really_ feeling, but the question hung thick in the air.        

            “Is it bad that I don’t feel too sad that he died?”        

            Craig, appropriately, didn’t answer the question. 

            “I mean, I’m sad. Maybe sad isn’t even the right word. Angry. Anxious. But not because his life ended. It probably ended a long time ago. I think the only thing that kept him going was fucking with me and getting all bent out of shape that I was queer. And then he saw that I wasn’t going to stop. He could cause me physical pain, but he couldn’t really hurt me…because I still had you.” Kenny added the last part with a whisper, but it was true and Craig heard it. He reddened, but let Kenny continue. “Anyway, I guess once he saw that he didn’t have the power to take everything away from me, he gave up. Like, on everything. All at once.” 

            Craig’s hand found Kenny’s and squeezed, and all understanding was transferred. That was another great thing about Craig. He knew when to speak, and he knew when to listen. He knew how to communicate without words, and silences were never awkward, because they were still filled with everything that needed to be said. 

            “I am at peace, a little,” Kenny said. “Ma’s cool with us, you know. I was actually a little surprised. But you know, Karen knows, and I think she talked to her a bit. Mom’s always been a little…y’know, like Stuart on a lot of those things, but without his grip on her, I think she’s just…relearning how to use her mind on her own again. I think she’d just as soon do everything the opposite of the way he did it, just out of spite. But I think in our case, she just…saw me be happy. I think she’s just so desperate for Karen and me to find a real and happy way out, she’s cool with however we do that. So…yeah, I’m at peace with that, but…Craig, I don’t know how we’re going to survi-.”        

            Kenny’s voice broke unexpectedly, keeping him from finishing his sentence, and Craig pulled him into his chest immediately. Kenny cried silently into Craig’s sports coat as Craig rubbed small circles into his back.  

            “H-he’s _dead_ , and he’s _still_ able to fuck up our lives,” Kenny said, muffled by tears and fabric. Without thinking, Craig kissed the top of the blonde’s head.

            “You _will_ survive,” Craig said. “You’re _survivors_. Not just you, but your mom and Karen, too. You got dealt a shitty hand, but you’re _still here_ , and _still_ fighting, and _still_ thinking of ways to continue fighting. Your biggest obstacle is gone now, but don’t forget _why_. You beat him. You out-survived him.”  
           
            Kenny pulled away, wiping his tears unceremoniously. He said nothing, but Craig could tell he was trying to take the words to heart.

            “You’re going to have to work hard. I know you already do, and maybe you’ll have to work even _harder_ , and it’ll be rough, but that’s what survivors do. And after that, your mom will be safe, and Karen will be safe. I’ll still be here, and Stuart can never take _any_ of that away. And I promise you, you’ll end up in a much better place than him, because you’ve _already_ worked harder than he probably ever did in his life.”

            Kenny forced a smile out. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it would, in time. Somehow, Craig’s wording calmed him, like it always did. Suddenly, even the idea of working harder sounded sweet. It would be good, honest work, and it wouldn’t go to waste thanks to Stuart’s bad habits. It would support the girls he loved, and he hoped that, one day, it could support the boy he loved, too. 

            “I just…I want you to know,” Craig said, slowly raising a hand to hold Kenny’s cheek (it was funny how he could be so shy about such a chaste action when they had done so much _more_ ), “that you’ll _never_ be alone in this. If you work a twelve hour day, I’ll be there. If you want to sleep for two days straight, I’ll be there. If you get the flu, I’ll be there. Which means you can always go home, no matter where you’re at.” 

            That alone was enough to comfort him. Even with Craig, Kenny never felt like he could go home when Stuart was alive. Now that Stuart was gone, even through the hardships, everywhere could be home as long as Craig was there. 

**oOo**

_Epilogue_

            Following Stuart’s funeral, it took a few weeks for Kenny and his family to figure out how things were going to work. The town, though they showed no real remorse for the death of Stuart McCormick, _did_ have sympathy for his children. It seemed like, for the first time, the town finally acknowledged their existence on the wrong side of the tracks. If their previous excuse had been that Stuart turned them away before, Kenny would have believed it. There was a difference between charity and honest-to-goodness neighborly help, but Stuart had never figured that out.

            The Marshes and the Broflovskis brought over so many dishes of food the day after the funeral, Kenny was worried they would start to go bad before his family could eat them all. Sheila Broflovski had gone a little overboard in particular, insisting to Carol that they keep the Tupperware as long as they needed. She even thought to bring over basic toiletries as well, which was something Kenny had honestly overlooked. He had really only accounted for food, housing, and water in his grand plan of _survival_ , and was truly grateful that a responsible and capable woman like Sheila was on his side. The minute he got her alone, Kenny gave her the biggest hug he could manage in an attempt to thank her not only for the food and supplies, but for being a kind of second mother to him his whole life, even when he was blowing off her own son. She hugged him back, careful not to crush his bones, and he saw that she had tears in her eyes when he pulled away. He honestly felt bad for making everyone cry lately, but at the very least, they seemed to be tears of hope and healing.

            Thomas Tucker brought around food as well, though his meals continued well after the regular grieving period. Despite being neighbors, and despite Craig and Kenny’s relationship being fairly common knowledge between the two houses, he was rather timid about bringing the food over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, but more that he didn’t want to impose. Craig had told Kenny that he didn’t want Carol to think he was trying to take the place of a parent, but Carol adored Thomas and was always more than happy when he showed up.

            The day after the funeral, Kenny swallowed his nerves and met up with Stan and Kyle to explain his relationship with Craig. They, of course, had already known about Craig’s sexuality, and though Kenny’s had not been explicitly advertised, they weren’t very surprised by it (and if they _were_ , they certainly didn’t show it). They were mostly confused by the fact that Kenny thought he had to hide it from them.

            “I mean, yeah, it’s _Craig_ , but even then, I guess he can’t be _too_ bad if you like him that much,” Stan said. “But we wouldn’t, like, rip on you for kissing a dude.”

            “Yeah,” Kyle said with a growing smile. “Especially since we kiss all the time.”

            Kenny’s jaw had dropped at that, and he cursed himself for missing out on so much of his friends’ lives. Stan had punched Kyle playfully on the shoulder.

            “What?” Kyle said. “Figure it doesn’t hurt to tell him now, huh? And don’t look too bummed out, Ken. It might not have ever happened if you hadn’t given us so much alone time.”

            Carol was quick to want to recover, Kenny was glad to see. She was frail and visibly tired after the funeral, but she was willing to try, and it was the mindset she needed. It turned out that she had been talking to Father Maxi about her options for betterment, and through donations from the parish and close friends (the Broflovskis once again coming in clutch), the town was able to send her to a state-of-the-art rehab facility. Her absence took a slight toll on Kenny, but it helped him to know that things were getting better and would continue to get better.

            With all that had been going on, it seemed strange that school should continue, but by that point, they were nearly at the end. Craig was great at encouraging Kenny to work hard in school, too. “Working hard in school will make it easier to work hard for the rest of your life,” Craig had told him. He didn’t allow Kenny to think about not having money for school. It was an issue that could be dealt with when the time came.

            Kenny’s grades landed somewhere in the upper-middle as far as class rankings went, but with Kyle and Craig’s help in writing personal essays, he was able to procure ten thousand dollars in scholarship money and substantial financial aid. It took all his power not to fall to his knees in tears mid-graduation.

            Kenny didn’t end up going to college immediately. Though he had more of a means than ever, he knew there was still work of another kind to do. Through the summer, and for the rest of the year, when the majority of his class packed up and went off to school, Kenny worked full time for a construction company. At fifteen dollars an hour, he managed to make enough to help his family _and_ put some aside to save. Craig, who went to North Park Community College, still lived and home and commuted via shuttle. Thanks to location and manageable finances, it wasn’t difficult to convince Kenny to go there as well (though honestly, Craig’s presence alone might have been enough to convince him). After a serious and helpful talk, Kenny finally decided that construction, and even architecture, was something that really appealed to him, and that he was _good_ at, and could actually pursue as a real career. As school drew nearer for him, he grew more excited at the prospect, and had the ambitious idea to one day renovate and bring positive attention to the East side of the tracks – the _right_ way, this time. SoDoSoPa be damned.

            Craig had been right, as he had a tendency to be in matters of Kenny, and North Park Community College went as smoothly as he could have hoped. Just as Kenny started, Carol’s rehab facility helped her find a job, and soon, there seemed to be little difference between her single motherhood and Mrs. Cartman’s single motherhood. In fact, she might even be compared to the pleasantly divorced Mrs. Tucker, whom Carol had started to brunch with on the weekends.

            Life was never _easy_ for Kenny or his family, even after the loss of Stuart. In many ways, that had made life even harder. However, there came a time where Kenny and Karen, and even Carol, were able to say with honesty that they were _happy._ It was hard to say how many of Kenny’s hardships had begun because of Craig, and even more impossible to say how many hardships had _ended_ because of him. All that really mattered was that Craig had been present for all of them, showering Kenny with kisses at the best of times, and talking him off the ledge at the worst.

            The worst hadn’t happened for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jnr;anwref 
> 
> idk why this was so hard to write. It took me 2 months and 2 days. Honestly, this one chapter was the reason I almost didn't write this at all. For a long time, I didn't know if I should even kill Stuart, even though that's the direction the music video trilogy goes. Idk. This wasn't really a ""plot"" fic. More of just a...y'know, Crenny being Crenny fic. Which I guess is how all my Crenny fics are. But with a fic that kinda lacks plot, it's hard to decide where to end it.
> 
> Anyway, this is the conclusion. Sorry it took so long for something so short...but now I can move on. I'm thinking of a Bendy one shot and a Stylenny one shot. Both will probably be......of the naughty nature. What do you guys think? Sound like something you may be interested in?
> 
> If you want, come find me on tumblr...same user name :)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, part of the Songs of South Park - my collection of South Park fics that are paired to music. This fic is paired with Troye Sivan's album Blue Neighborhood, and kind of inspired by the music videos in the Blue Neighborhood trilogy (in order: Wild, Fools, Talk Me Down). I recommend them, but even if you don't watch them, at least look them up: don't the kids in the video look like Craig and Kenny?
> 
> So.........I intended this to be three chapters, but as I'm working on it, I'm realizing I don't want this to match the music videos super closely (the last chapter can go a few ways and I haven't totally decided which direction I wanna go yet. I'll see how I feel after people read it. Do you guys wanna see an angstier side? If you've seen the music videos, do you like that vibe?)
> 
> I'm not gunna lie, this is very self-indulgent. Kinda like Sloppy Seconds was. This is just angstier, and maybe how Sloppy Seconds would have gone had the boys been close since childhood. I dunno. I'm just filling the world with more Crenny. 
> 
> I'll try to get this all done asap. It's not long. In fact, this might be the longest of it. The fic after this is finished will be Stylenny, so look forward to that!


End file.
